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worldofkuro · 5 months

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile IX

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Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: You know what? I liked this chapter, I wasn't very sure about it at first but in the end, I enjoyed writting it. I hope you'll enjoy as well ! We are approaching the end of their teenage years~ How sad... but how exciting !

“ Do you think this is a good idea Alice?”

“ An incredible one !”

You were in your bedroom, having a girls night together. You were talking about the Chrismast’Eve’s soirée you had, gossiping together. Of course, you told her about what happened with Alastor when you had your first kiss and she couldn’t help but hug you while screaming delightedly with a lot of : I told you so !

But now, you wanted to prepare a surprise party for Alastor's birthday, you wanted to go somewhere else but you knew that Alastor would be reluctant about leaving his mother again. But once more, Alice came with an amazing idea. She had a little cottage an hour from here, she thought that you could all prepare a party for him a day before his birthday, and once midnight past you would give him his present ! Then in the morning, you would get back home and Alastor could celebrate his birthday with his mother.

You sighed as you looked at your ceiling. It would be a great idea. But there were many problems, first of all, you didn’t know any of Alastor’s friends, so it would be complicated to invite them. Second of all, you needed someone with a car so you could go to the cottage to prepare everything without Alastor noticing. And that would be impossible ! Alastor could read you like an opened book ! He would know you were hiding something…

“ But I can’t lie to him, even if I tried..” you sighed once again. Why was Alastor so observant ! While you needed to be focused on him to be able to see one single twitch from his expression, he could know what you were feeling with his eyes closed! How unfair that was… You would have to need help. “ Maybe I could ask Marie for help…?”

“ I know ! We’ll tell him you are sick because you stayed outside for too long! You have a very bad cold so he mustn't come to see you !”

You scoffed at her idea. When you were younger you got a really bad cold, which made you incapable of even standing up. Your parents were so worried that they asked for a doctor to come check on you. The man said that you needed some drugs and not to go outside until the fever settled down. Your parents mustn't stay too close to you in case you contaminate them. So guess how surprised you were when one night, you had opened your eyes and saw Alastor, wiping the sweat from your forehead. His hands were shaking but he was smiling down on you saying that everything would be okay, it was just a little cold. You needed to recover so you could play together once more. You really didn’t know if it was a hallucination or not but the next day, you woke up better and with Eamon in your arms.

“ He would try anything to come to see me. No matter the state I’m in.”

“ Even if you told him you don’t want him to come?”

“ He would know I’m lying…” you smiled as Alice was getting more and more frustrated. You both thought for hours. How could you fool Alastor? You knew he respected your privacy if you asked him… Oh wait! “ I could say I’m on my period ! And it hurts a lot so I want to be left alone!” You clapped your hands together with a big smile. The first time you had your period you were so afraid that your mother had to calm you down. When she explained to you what was happening and that you were now a woman and no longer a girl you couldn’t help but be proud.. for ten minutes, because after that you were hurting badly, you couldn’t stand up from your bed. It was a nightmare. And of course, when Alastor tried to come to see you you shouted at him that you wanted to be left alone. He was so confused but when his mother explained to him what menstruation was, he would sometimes just pass by and drop some sweets for you, never going inside your bedroom. Sometimes he would stay against your door if you were in the mood and talk about his day.

“ Really, do you think it would work?” Alice asked, seeming relieved that you finally have an idea for this surprise party to work. You nodded excitedly. Now it was show time ! You needed your mother to be part of the plan of course, but it should go smoothly ! “ Then, tomorrow we’ll need to make a team ! One who needs to find anything about Alastor’s friends, and the other needs to prepare the cottage with decoration !”

You were curious about Alastor’s friend, you wanted to know the person he hung out with. You bit your lips and asked Alice to let you stalk Alastor. If you were lucky, you would go unnoticed.

Let the plan begin !

~~~

“ Dear? Your mother told me you were in pain. Do you need anything ?” you heard Alastor’s voice through the door. You began to dress up in disguise, waiting for him to leave so you could follow him.

“ No, I’m just tired and sweaty.. I think I’ll just rest for today!” you waited for him to answer but there was a blank. Why wasn’t he responding ?

“ Is that so… Well, I’ll come back later tonight to see if you are feeling any better, take care.” you heard him slide something under your door and you couldn’t help but awned as you saw a chocolate bar. He knew you too well! You took it quietly as you heard his footsteps near the stairs. Perfect ! You put on your father’s clothes and his hat and you went toward your windows. You could do it. You just needed to jump off to the tree, grab the branches and climb it down. Easy… Your window wasn't on the road’s side but at the neighbor's house so Alastor shouldn’t be able to see you.

One…

Two…

You jumped and grabbed the branches between your hands. What were you doing, damn it! You climbed down the tree and hurried up to the street. Where was he? You looked on your right and saw Alastor walking down the street. You couldn't help but be excited! Today you were hunting for information about Alastor ! You walked at a reasonable distance from him, watching him rearranging his tie with the shop’s vitrines reflect. You tilted your head as you saw him being greeted by a lot of ladies who would giggled after Alastor flashed them his charming smile.

You had tailed him for hours, he would go into a library, read some books, then go to a coffee shop and get a black coffee. Nothing worthwhile. You sighed behind your journal. You were sitting on a table not too far from him, watching him but he was just enjoying himself, alone. You should just ask Marie for information, maybe it would be more useful. As you thought about leaving you saw a bunch of boys going toward Alastor, greeting him with laughter and smiles. You smiled, were they Alastor’s friends? You tried to listen to the conversation, which was surprisingly easy, they were very loud.

“ So Alastor, what’s good for you?” said a green eyed boy “ We haven’t seen you for a while, why don’t you come hunting with us? We hear there were great beasts in the bayou.” you could see Alastor's smile widened darkly. He took a sip of his coffee as he listened to the group of boys talking about hunting. Maybe Alastor was hunting with them instead of his father, it was a sweet thought. Now you just needed their names so you could bring them to the party !

Alastor talked with them, mostly laughing at them. But the group of boys did not seem to feel hurt by Alastor's comment, they were listening to him like he was the Messiah. Was that because they thought he was joking? Did people really not understand Alastor that much? You sighed, they couldn’t be Alastor’s friend, from what you knew, he could be using them for a greater purpose.

After a while, Alastor excused himself before leaving the coffee shop as his… guests, friends ? tried to coat him to stay with them. Alastor accepted a hunting session with them before leaving. Mhn.. You stood up and went toward the bunch of boys.

“ Excuse me, are you Alastor’s friends?” you waited for them to nod before continuing “ Would you like to be present for his birthday?”

“ Are you planning a birthday party? Of course we will come! You know what, we will share the news to his other friends, don’t worry, where will it happen ?” asked the blue eyed man. You gave them all the information before running off. Now, you need to go back home. You took a shortcut, going into a dark alley. If you memory was great, you’ll have to–

“ May I know why you are following me, my goodfella?”

You freeze. It was Alastor’s voice. Your back was facing him, you didn't know what distance he was standing on but you couldn’t turn around, he would recognize you. You heard his footsteps coming closer.

“ Did your Mother not teach you any manners? It's rather rude to not answer a question my good friend.”

You ran.

You ran and you could hear him behind you. Damn it Alastor ! Don’t run after someone who stalked you all afternoon!

You avoided any trash that was standing in your way. You saw a fence in front of you. It wasn’t very high, you could jump over it, then you would be into your neighbor's garden, you’ll just need to climb the tree and jump into your bedroom. You couldn’t help but smirked as you jumped over the fence, you always were faster than Alastor ! You fell graciously on the tree and began to climb the tree, you looked behind you but couldn’t see Alastor, did he give up? You entered your bedroom through your windows still wide open.

You stood there as you heard the front door opened violently downstairs and then your mother’s voice.

“ Alastor? Why are you runni- Alastor!”

You panicked as you heard Alastor footsteps running faster in the stairs. You took your clothes off quickly and hid them in your closet but as you ran toward your bed while putting on your nightgown you stud your foot against the furniture making you yell painfully. You fell on the bed, groaning, fuck that hurted !

“ What is going on?” you heard Alastor shouted as he slammed the door open. You curled on yourself, sweating and breathing hard from all that running. You felt his cold hand on your forehead. “ You are sweating although your window is wide open.” he shut the window and stared at you, caressing your back. At least you could pass your foot pain for menstruation’s pain.

“It’s because of the smell that I’ve left the window open but Alastor… What are you doing here ? You said you’ll come later…”

“ Well my dear, I was chasing what I think could be your stalker.” you stared at him with wide eyes. Did he mistaked you for a stalker? Well, you did follow him all afternoon but…” But what was worrisome was that when I chased them, they ran into your house’s direction. You haven’t seen anything suspicious my friend ?” he stared at you with his usual smile. You shook your head trying to be as innocent looking as possible. He kept his gaze on you for more than a minute before kissing your forehead. “ Well, I’m sorry to have disturbed your rest my dear.”

You kissed both of his cheeks before laying back down on the bed. You waved at him goodbye before sighing in relief. You could still feel adrenaline inside your body and you couldn’t be prouder than yourself than right now.

Alastor did not catch you.

~~~

You were with Alice, finishing decorating the cottage. It was a cozy place, far away from the city, there was even a lake just behind the house. It was frozen, of course, but when summer came, you could all come here to have some fun! You were the 30st of December, the surprise would be tomorrow, everything needed to be perfect.

“ I think we did everything we needed to, we brang drinks, food, blankets, what more do you need, woman!” said an exasperated Alice. You knew you were being annoying right now but you really wanted everything to go smoothly. “ I’m done, we are going home, come, my cab is waiting for us.”

“ No, I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

“ I beg your pardon?”

“ I know, just… I… Please.. As you said, I’m perfectly safe here right? So what bad could it do to stay a night here, also, I know that if I see Alastor one more time, I would slip and spoil the surprise ! So please, Alice… Go back home, and manage the guests. I’ll wait for all of you here, with the drinks and food ready, even with the fire in the chimney.”

“... I really don’t want to but… Fine, there is a telephone here, in the entrance. If you need anything, you can dial my house’s number, okay? I’ll tell your mother you’re staying here. And if you need to run away because.. I don’t know what, there is a backdoor that’s always unlocked, I’ll enter from there if you call me okay? Keep the front door locked.” you nodded before hugging her. You knew she didn’t like your idea at all, but you were happy she trusted you enough to let you go.

You waved at her as she took her cab and left. Well, now you just need to light up a fire and find a room where to sleep. You were excited, it felt like it was your own house ! You smiled as you imagined your life like the owner of this house. You took Marie’s book recipes, now what should you cook?

~~~

A snowstorm.

A fucking snowstorm.

It’s been going on for three hours now, thank God you have enough woods so you didn’t have to go outside to find some. You were sitting in a cozy chair with your hot chocolate, a romance book on your laps and with a bright fire in the chimney. You really hoped it would stop before tomorrow, you didn’t want to cancel the surprise.

You closed your eyes. Well, you just had to wait…

Thud

You woke up, sweating. You sat up, making your book fall on the floor. What was that? You looked around you, the fire was almost completely extinguished, only a few flames remained on the wood. You stood up streching yourself and yawned. You fell asleep like that? You took the blanket with you, ready to go to bed when you heard it again.

Thud

You felt your body shivering, your heart beating stronger and faster. Okay, it was a real noise, it wasn’t a trick from your mind. You went quietly into the kitchen, and took a knife. You weren’t even sure of what you were going to do with it but safer than sorry, right? You stared at the front door, where you heard the noises. You couldn’t see anything from the windows, it was dark outside and with the storm going on… It was too dangerous.

You watched as the door handle moved.

Someone was trying to enter.

You didn’t realize you were shaking. It couldn’t be Alice, she told you she would enter by the back door. She wouldn’t try to open the front door. What should you do? Run by the backdoor and getting lost in the snowstorm or staying here, waiting for this person to enter and do… You didn't want to think about it.

The noises coming from the door stopped. You held your breath, counting in your mind the seconds. You’ll count to one thousand and then you’ll go back to the living room to see if you could notice something. You were around 665 when you heard a window breaking upstairs.

You screamed.

The footsteps ran toward you.

You ran.

You slammed opened the backdoor and ran into the snowstorm. Where were you going ? You didn't know, you wanted to lose the intruder in the snow and then come back safely into the house. You held the knife in your hands, if needed would you be able to kill to protect yourself? You heard a shout behind you, he seemed closer than you thought. You needed to do something, anything ! You could already imagine your mother’s face if she happened to know you had gotten killed ! Alice would die from guilt. And Alastor…

You slid on ice, hitting the back of your head against the floor. You frowned, what was..? You touched the ice and realized you were on the frozen lake. You felt your eyes getting teary. Why was that happening, why? You tried to stand up without falling and then you saw the shadows of the man following you.

“ Stay away !” you shouted, the wind carrying your voice to you don’t know where, holding on to your knife. “ I’m not afraid of killing you !”

Your legs were shaking but if you were to die, you would die fighting ! The shadows came closer and closer, his hand stretching toward you. You raised your arms, ready to sink it into his chest. You warned him !

“ Look at me !”

You opened your eyes, you didn’t even notice when you closed them, and saw Alastor, standing near the edge of the frozen lake. He was only centimeters away from you. Have you gone mad? Why was Alastor here? Why was he looking at you without smiling, his eyes begging you to listen to him.

“ Alastor..?”

You tried to walk toward him, trying to catch his hand but the only thing you heard before blacking out was the ice cracking underneath your feet and Alastor calling out your name.

~~~

You were burning from the inside, were you in Hell?

“ Open your eyes, don’t you dare fucking die ! Anyone but you! ”

You felt someone’s lips against yours. You didn’t want any other lips on yours but Alastor’s. You pushed the stranger away as you began to cough violently. It hurts. Death wasn’t supposed to be a peaceful journey?

You opened your eyes weakly and there he was. Alastor who was drenched above you. You were so cold.. it was burning you. As soon as Alastor saw your eyes he fell to his knees, his head tilted back, his hand covering his face, whispering something you couldn’t hear.

“ Alastor..?” You looked around and realized you were back in the cottage, the fire has been lit on. You sat up slowly and looked at the blanket around you. You were freezing but tucked into a lot of blankets. “ What are you doing here..?”

“ Is that the first question you want to ask me ?” His voice was cold, his face was stoic, his usual smile non-existent. He was shaking. “ What were you thinking going out in a bloody snowstorm? Have you lost your mind ?” he stood up, raising his voice at you. As your memories came back you understood what happened. The man you thought was an intruder was Alastor.

You looked down, ashamed but then anger replaced that feeling. Everything would have turned out great if he didn’t come!

“ I was doing great before you came along! Why are you here?”

“ There is a bloody stalker after you and you decide to stay alone in a deserted area ? Tell me dear, are you trying to impress me with your stupidity because you succeeded. Congratulations.” he said mockingly as he sat on the sofa, trying to dry his hair with a towel.

“ I was preparing your birthday, it was supposed to be a surprise !”

“ My birthday’s not worthwhile if you are not by my side!” he shouted, throwing the towel on the floor, his eyes shining with fury. He came to you and tugged you closer by grabbing the necklace he had given you on Christmas. “ What a charming surprise it would have been, finding your dead body in the snow ! Celebrating my birthday would mean celebrating your death? Oh, you really are spoiling me, my friend. You really are taking the cake!” he spat as he stared at you.

“ Don’t shout at me !”

“ Don’t play with your life then!” He took a knife from his wet pants.” What did you think you could have done with that? Would you stab a man my dear, tell me, would you do it?” he taunted you, mocked you, moving the knife in front of your eyes. “ Do you know how to kill, my dearest?” his voice was low, menacing but you weren’t afraid.

“ I would have.” you stated. Even if you had closed your eyes, in your mind, you were ready to stab the intruder. “ I was ready to stab to live…” you felt your eyes beginning to tear up.” I was so afraid that I was going to die without seeing you again.. That I was ready to kill someone…” you sobbed as you realized that you almost killed today. You fell to your knees, sobbing. Alastor was angry with you, you almost died, his birthday was a disaster… You wanted to disappear.

You felt his arms around you and you couldn’t help but sob harder. You grabbed his shoulder, pressing yourself against his wet cold clothes. You wanted to feel him more than ever.

“ What.. What happened ?” you hiccuped as he stroked your hair.

“ The ice from the lake broke. I jumped in to save you and take you back here so you wouldn’t die of hypothermia.” he whispered, his body still tense.

“ We shouldn’t stay in wet clothes then..” you took a step back and then you realized, you were in your underwear under the blanket. Did Alastor strip you? You blushed as you looked up to him, he was looking at his own clothes with disgust.

“ There are no other clothes for me, I’ve looked around.” he sighed before looking away. You shyly touched his shirt and tugged it gently, mutely asking him to undress. He looked at you for a long minute before taking his shirt off and then when you saw them.

Scars.

So many scars were on his upper body. You approached your hand while looking at Alastor who wasn’t smiling. It was so intimidating. His eyes weren't as warm as usual when he was looking at you, there was something completely different. He softly took your hand in his and with a soft sigh, kissed the back of it. He kissed the back of your hand, once, twice.. before tugging you against him and kissing your lips avidly.

You brought your hand into his hair as you kissed him back with so many emotions, fear, worry, desire, fondness… You didn’t know what words to put on your other feelings but what was important right now was Alastor.

You both were panting, you didn’t want to stop kissing him but you needed to breathe. He laid you on the floor, kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your jaw. You were breathing hard, holding onto him, tilting your head back so he could kiss your neck. He was kissing, biting as if making sure you were still here with him.

After a few minutes, he stopped, panting against your chest. You were gripping his hair. You didn’t really know what was happening but you felt great…

“ Don’t ever… Don’t ever do that again my dear…Don’t ever go somewhere I can’t find you...”

You hugged him, pressing his head against your warm chest.

“ I promise.”

He sighed once last time before standing up and walked toward the telephone, calling your Mother’s house. You stood up and tried to find clothes for Alastor but there weren’t any that would fit him. You sighed and decided to just take all the blankets from all the room. You went back to the living room just when Alastor ended the call.

“ I just said you were okay, I didn’t talk about our little trip outside.” you nodded and put the blanket on the sofa. You didn’t know how to feel, here you were in your underwear and Alastor shirtless. It happened in the past… But why right now.. It seemed different? You shook your head, it wasn’t important. You held your hand toward Alastor who raised an eyebrows.

“ Let’s sleep.” you said softly. He sighed but walked toward you. You pushed him on the sofa and then laid on him before pulling the cover over you. You caressed the scars you could see, you could feel his body tensed when you touched one who seemed deeper than the others. As you began to fall asleep you felt him nudged you.

“ Stay awake a little longer.. I don’t think I’m capable of seeing you with your eyes closed right now…”

You nodded but you were so tired… You fought against sleepiness until Alastor said it was okay to rest.

Tag List :@lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine

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longing-for-rain · 5 months

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regarding aang becoming offended bc of his portrayal as a woman in ember island players, i think his anger was justified on that specific occassion? I mean, the fire nation was mocking his gentle nature and pacifism by portraying him as a blithering naive idiot who never took things seriously and the belittling of his culture and beliefs. This is one of the worst episodes for him, dont get me wrong, but in this case, femininity was utilized as a source of derision and weakness imo. I dont say this with bad intentions, just thought i would write this bc i also condemned aang for the same thing before

If that was what Aang was upset about I might be inclined to agree, but everything he says and does throughout that episode points to the contrary. Aang doesn’t say anything about the incorrect portrayal of his culture and personal values. Here is what he does say:

[Note: the above expression is before the actress hardly says anything so he’s clearly just mad about the fact that she’s female]

Aang: [angrily] Is that a woman playing me?

Aang: I don't do that! That's not what I'm like! And I'm not a woman!

[Note: the official script includes the emphasis; again, it’s very obvious that he’s most bothered by being played by a woman]

Then this exchange:

Toph: I don't know, you are more in touch with your feminine side than most guys.

Aang: [Standing up, angrily] Argh!

Katara: Relax, Aang. They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving overemotional speeches about hope all the time. [Everyone looks at her] What?

Aang: [Turns around and sits down. Sarcastically.] Yeah, that's not you at all.

You know what I love about this conversation is that is proves two things at once. Firstly, yet again, it’s clear that being portrayed by a woman is what is most upsetting to Aang. Secondly, his reaction (and, honestly, insult) to Katara’s values here shows that he’s not thinking that deeply about this. It has nothing to do with values. Aang is offended at the idea that he is being portrayed by a woman and with more “feminine” qualities, which honestly plays well with his creepy, possessive behavior with Katara later this same episode.

And I actually do like the fact that you brought up femininity being used as “a source of derision and weakness” because guess what! That’s the definition of femininity itself. Femininity doesn’t mean simply being a woman; femininity is the social behaviors and roles that women are expected to fulfill. Which is why I don’t have any sympathy for a man who is offended by being called feminine or compared to a woman because it’s reflective of a deeply misogynistic attitude on his part. If Aang thinks femininity is so degrading and weak, what does that say about the fact he expects his crush to behave that way? I mean, this is what he thinks of Katara, through his own perspective:

So yeah, that’s my question. If being compared to a woman is so insulting and humiliating to Aang, what does that say about how he intuitively views actual women? Why does he think he’s above that treatment but women aren’t? People act like I’m crazy for saying that he exhibits toxic masculinity this episode but this only furthers that point.

Oh and before someone jumps in here and acts like this goes both ways, let me point you to this:

Toph’s reaction to finding out she’s being played by a big, buff, stereotypically-masculine man. She’s thrilled! Why? Because we are products of a misogynistic society and therefore intuitively view being compared to a man as a compliment and a woman as an insult. The respective roles assigned to each are not equal. Masculinity and femininity were never equal and the system was deliberately created that way. You can see this idea ingrained in the writing of this episode because it’s a bias we all hold to some degree, including the writing and creative team here.

So I’m sorry, but considering the bias clearly present within the writing team and the way the characters behave this episode, it’s clear to me that Aang’s reaction has nothing to do with his culture and everything to do with his misogyny.

#besides if we’re talking culture #supposedly he’s also meant to avoid earthly attachment and possession #which is not in line at all with his treatment of katara #anti kataang #canon critical #aang critical #atla #avatar the last airbender #ember island players #meta #zutara #katara #toph #fandom salt

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muzsmoux · 5 months

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Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

#heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #tgcf #xie lian #hua cheng #feng xin #mu qing #shi qingxuan #ming yi #lang qianqiu #qi rong #jun wu #pei ming #pei xiu #ling wen #sorry for the long post #im just obsessed

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yunarim · 1 year

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「 ₊ ❤️‍🩹 dorm leaders with natasha-like reader 」

── ⋯ where's a doctor when you need one? ✧ rus ver (original) : here! ✧ characters : dorm leaders ✧ tags : female reader (she/her pronouns), fluff, slight mentions of injuries, reader kinda works part-time at NRC as a nurse, reader wields a gun but no violence mentioned (she just uses it canonically but i left only the part that she only has it in her property) ✧ note : might edit this later since i'm not quite satisfied with my own translation from rus but that's it for now

「 Riddle Rosehearts 」 ⏤ ⊹ Probably encountering such a friendly person for the first ever time during his whole lifespan.

⏤ ⊹ Perplexed by your behavior enough to actually spend some time to try figuring out what is it that motivates you to act so selflessly. There is no way you ask him whether he feels okay everyday just out of your free will? Right?..

⏤ ⊹ It's amazing how patient you are being with Ace and Deuce, given they can be pretty much to handle.

⏤ ⊹ Realizes you are a ray of light in a dark realm. Honestly, is it even legal for you to be in the NRC among them, such ... malicious creatures?

⏤ ⊹ Once you told him that there are many people in the NRC who need your support. He did not even believe you at first, dismissively suggesting that you are deliberately shielding yourself in front of others in order to earn public recognition.

⏤ ⊹ Being the only girl and not having magical abilities in the college dedicated for gifted magicians... He wondered how you felt the moment you got here.

⏤ ⊹ His opinion changed dramatically the moment Ace and Deuce casually mentioned that after going to the mines to restore that ridiculously expensive chandelier, the one who cured their injures was none other than you.

⏤ ⊹ Actually was strictly against of you doing anything medicine-related due to the fact he doesn’t even know you have a diploma, so that making you certified specialist.

⏤ ⊹ You: I had my own clinic in my world.

⏤ ⊹ Riddle: I beg your pardon?

⏤ ⊹ Apparently, that one nurse NRC had is fired by now PLEASE–

⏤ ⊹ Riddle wants to look up to you in order to be just as collected and patient as you are.

⏤ ⊹ During all the time you spend at NRC he never ceases to be amazed at how unwaveringly confident you are when some unexpectedly difficult situations occur, but at the same time you never lose your humanity and concern for others.

⏤ ⊹ Ready to take care of you when you forget to do it yourself – you are also a living human being who needs rest and care.

⏤ ⊹ He is not very good at expressing his emotions, so you don’t expect obvious actions and words from him, but get ready for the fact that he will often drop by (apparently) your infirmary with a pinkish hue on his cheeks, saying "Good afternoon ... Y-You're not breaking any rules, are you? Fine then... I tried to make tea according to your recipe, can you check if it's okay...?"

⏤ ⊹ You are always present as a nurse during when unbirthday parties are being hold in case someone gets sunstroke or gets hurt on rose thorns.

⏤ ⊹ If suddenly you know how to use this huge gun... how do you even lift it, it looks like it weighs three times more than you yourself?!

⏤ ⊹ Is this what they call alternative medicine?..

⏤ ⊹ Overall he sees you as an extremely caring mother figure ahem ergh uh older sister.

「 Leona Kingscholar 」

⏤ ⊹ The fact that you are a woman automatically sets you apart from these uncouth students.

⏤ ⊹ Before you have time to say anything, let alone even do anything, he sees the accumulated life experience in your eyes. Those eyes can’t lie.

⏤ ⊹ Actually, no one expects it but he treats you with an enormous amount of respect from the very beginning. It took Ruggie a few days to get used to the fact that Leona doesn't behave as he pleases when he sees you.

⏤ ⊹ And when you stumbled upon him and said that deep sound sleep is good for his health he even thought that maybe you were some sort of an angel.

⏤ ⊹ Sadly, happiness didn’t last long.

⏤ ⊹ You noticed that he sleeps way too much, and that time you started lamenting that excessive sleep can harm his brain activity and blah-blah-blah...

⏤ ⊹ However, you still found yourself carrying an orthopedic pillow every time you go to the botanical garden in order to collect some herbs, so you leave the pillow near the bench Leona usually sleeps on.

⏤ ⊹ In case you stumble upon a sleeping Leona while walking through the garden, you try to adjust his sleeping position so that his neck won’t hurt when he wakes up, and during these moments he simply tries to hug you or pull you onto his lap.

⏤ ⊹ You see him as a big capricious kitten mainly but you still have a lot of work to do, so you carefully put him back and whisper something gentle with your soothing voice.

⏤ ⊹ Mentally chuckles smugly every time you make a very subtle remark about the political system in Afterglow Savannah (the only fact he trusts you enough to explain something about throne succession in his family is quite amazing itself).

⏤ ⊹ You won't notice it outwardly, but he is extremely grateful to you for the way you spend time with Cheka and tell him interesting stories about your world.

⏤ ⊹ He is sincerely proud of you. You are a wise, caring and patient woman. He doesn't even want to joke around with you as he usually does with everyone around him. You are too amazing.

⏤ ⊹ In case you use a gun... Seriously, do you have an endless facts list to surprise him with?

⏤ ⊹ Doesn't show it, but is concerned if it's hard for you to hold this colossus gun in your hands.

「 Azul Ashengrotto 」

⏤ ⊹ Truthfully speaking, he asked Jade and Floyd a couple of times if they can distract you so that you wouldn't sneak into his office and start lamenting how hard he works and how he needs to take a break.

⏤ ⊹ He was surprised that you were extremely attentive when he tried to make a shady deal with you, according to which you could potentially become a nurse in Mostro Lounge.

⏤ ⊹ Your attentiveness actually comes from the need to measure dosages extremely accurately, that he could understand, but he wasn’t prepared for the fact you would read the shady part written in a tiny font at the bottom of the document with the same meticulousness.

⏤ ⊹ After your refusal to work for him, the part about how your conversation turned into a discussion of the cost of renting the premises and how much Crowley screwed everything up remains unsolved...

⏤ ⊹ Why Azul ended up being the one fixing all the mess Crowley caused in the first place? How insanely hard it was to start running a business with instant losses, and not to mention!–

⏤ ⊹ What do you mean you made sea buckthorn tea.

⏤ ⊹ Actually Azul can’t even realize what does he feel every time he accepts your care. He believes he is unworthy of your kindness, but as a result he clings to it like a lifeline.

⏤ ⊹ He doesn't remember when was the last time in his life he felt so... valid? Has he ever been appreciated the way he is now?

⏤ ⊹ At first he assumed that your kindness extends to everyone indiscriminately, but got incredibly surprised when he realized that perhaps you pay a little more attention to him than to the others?..

⏤ ⊹ And you are definitely not stupid to waste your nerves on just, uh, anyone.

⏤ ⊹ Jade and Floyd are constantly mess with him that upon NRC graduation Azul should definitely lure you to work with them.

⏤ ⊹ In case you know how to wield that giant cannon... Uhm so care to get married after graduation?

⏤ ⊹ You're so cool, it's just unbelievable, please make him a soothing tea before his heart breaks his ribs and jumps out of his chest, alright?

「 Kalim Al-Asim 」

⏤ ⊹ Finally someone who matches his energy!

⏤ ⊹Kalim is the embodiment of sunshine, while you behave more in a patient way.

⏤ ⊹ But overall you two are NRC’s brightest sun rays.

⏤ ⊹ Kalim is constantly dropping by the infirmary to bring you something to eat (Jamil actually played crucial role in cooking all those things Kalim brought but still consider Kalim wasn’t doing nothing!! He spent sleepless nights trying to master making your favorite dish, so he could get you something to eat anytime you would want to!).

⏤ ⊹ You!! You are so tender with kids around you!! You are so amazing!!

⏤ ⊹ A couple of times he saw you outside the NRC telling different stories about your world to the kids in the park.

⏤ ⊹ Next moment you were already creating your own fairytales, completely dissolved in that natural coziness.

⏤ ⊹ He gets amazed every time he spots you sorting herbs in the infirmary. How could you remember so many different names and medicine properties?..

⏤ ⊹ Consider yourself famous in his family, given how often he tells little facts about you during phone calls. Be also prepared for the fact that if you happen to go visiting his family you’ll be accepted as an Al-Asim new family member.

⏤ ⊹ The result: you help Kalim's parents with chores in the kitchen and with cleaning, not afraid of doing extra work at all.

⏤ ⊹ Sometimes you forget that Kalim is actually not a child anymore, and Jamil reminds you that you shouldn't spoil him too much, but you can't help but running your fingers through his tousled hair during rare breaks you have a meal or just go for a walk to sort your thoughts.

⏤ ⊹ Once he saw how tired you seemed after having a long work day and ran up to you, asking if everything was okay.

⏤ ⊹ You just smiled softly, saying that you were fine, it’s just after another overblot happens the wounds are always much more serious than minor abrasions and cuts.

⏤ ⊹ Kalim gently hugged you, declaring that this hug would serve as an energy boost for today.

⏤ ⊹ From that day on, Kalim asks Jamil to wake him up much earlier than he usually does in order to run into your office and give you a reassuring hug (he returns to bed for another twenty minutes sleeping right after, but let’s omit this okay-)

⏤ ⊹ Surprisingly, you feel better indeed, but you always make sure to not leave such a nice gesture go unnoticed, giving Jamil your hand-made fruit marshmallow so he would give it to Kalim.

⏤ ⊹ Kalim: happy.

⏤ ⊹ Everyone: happy.

「 Vil Schoenheit 」

⏤ ⊹ If you work part-time at the NRC infirmary, then he’s ready to go to Crowley to figure it out so that you get an immediate salary increase.

⏤ ⊹ He knows how important medical knowledge is, and yours is on another level.

⏤ ⊹ Would you like to join his agency? Or maybe even start developing your own brand of cosmetics, given how well-read you are and how well-versed you are in herbs.

⏤ ⊹ He wasn’t insisting when you refused but surprisingly for himself got a little upset.

⏤ ⊹ However this illusory feeling quickly left him as soon as you suggested making a few adjustments to his own cosmetics, and advised a mixture of herbs that could strengthen the effect obtained from Vil's cosmetics.

⏤ ⊹ If you have joint potionology classes he always tries to cooperate with you.

⏤ ⊹Highly respects such an incredible woman like you. Please consider it requires A LOT to earn the praise from the Vil Schoenheit himself, so you’re quite privileged.

⏤ ⊹ Always ready to din common sense in your enviers’s heads. How can anyone possibly believe that you are working for some imaginary benefit?

⏤ ⊹ A woman with such caring touches and boundless attention to her patients simply can’t be a fake, aiming for ephemeral titles or unwanted recognition.

⏤ ⊹ There are no ulterior motives in the way you sincerely offer Vil a few remedies to increase stress resistance and stimulate concentration during work.

⏤ ⊹ To some extent, he doesn’t fully understand why are you being so nice and selfless, but he never argues with you. He's not an idiot to even say anything against you (why would he though? You’re stunning).

⏤ ⊹ Often comes to you for your advice since he genuinely values everything you say.

⏤ ⊹ His words won’t help or encourage your if you suddenly find yourself in a difficult situation or just get tired at the end of the working day. However, he is the person who will convince you that you just need a proper rest. Vil definitely makes you tea, helps you do all night skin routine and makes sure that you fall asleep peacefully.

⏤ ⊹ Your cannon looks absolutely intimidating, maybe it's even better that you haven't had a chance to use it anywhere except for crushing especially hard and large-sized reagents in the process of making potions.

「 Idia Shroud 」

⏤ ⊹ Girl, what anime did you isekai from?

⏤ ⊹ To be honest Idia was simply scared when he saw you.

⏤ ⊹ He has never come across such piercingly sincere and caring person alive. Idia doesn't understand why you care about him so much in the first place.

⏤ ⊹ It's not like he grew up surrounded by love and care to realize how to accept such a sudden kindness.

⏤ ⊹ How did you even manage to stumble upon him when he literally does not go beyond his room?

⏤ ⊹ Ah, that's right... As soon as he thoughtlessly tried to pat Lucius, you noticed him on your way to the infirmary.

⏤ ⊹ He thought you were taunting him when he found a pack of kitten stickers on his bag, along with a small note that said “If you have time, stop by the infirmary, I would like to give you tea leaves that I dried myself. I heard your brother makes great tea.”

⏤ ⊹ NO WAY HE WOULD EVER–

⏤ ⊹ That day Ortho accompanied Idia straight to the infirmary, where he left his brother, humming some catchy pop song, and call it a day. The tips of his hair blazed with a delicate pink, and only the mischievous sparks flying off smoldered with ardent scarlet.

⏤ ⊹ For the first time he saw someone so mesmerized by his hair. Sure thing he stood out noticeably among people with this amusing feature of his, but he observed such a childishly genuine interest without a bit of malicious intent perhaps for the first time in his life.

⏤ ⊹ After a few more ‘trips’ to your infirmary, he came to conclusion that you are incredibly enduring. People usually either ignore him or make fun of him.

⏤ ⊹ You though, you never rush him, never force reactions out of him.

⏤ ⊹ Fortunately for him, the fact that you never force him to do anything against his will helps him demonstrate his gratitude slowly, but quite effectively.

⏤ ⊹ If you have any problems with the equipment, consider that they are no more, because Idia is always ready to fix anything or improve your equipment out of his own curiosity he got while working with you.

⏤ ⊹ At first when you tried to fix his completely shattered sleep schedule he resisted capriciously as if being an annoyed child.

⏤ ⊹ But you are not a simple woman to just leave it like that.

⏤ ⊹ No kitten stickers until he sleeps at least seven hours.

⏤ ⊹ It doesn't matter at all that Idia is rich enough to buy at least a whole factory for the production of those stickers–

⏤ ⊹ Now your so-called quarrels have become a kind of a local joke between you two.

⏤ ⊹ At first he got scared when he saw your cannon, but now he just wants to upgrade it, even though you insist that you won't shoot it without a need (and believe me YOU won’t ever use it on people bc why would you even do that okay?).

「 Malleus Draconia 」

⏤ ⊹ First, the very fact that you are not afraid of him is truly amazing.

⏤ ⊹ Second, just how discerning you are, given you straight up went asking him whether his horns hurt when he sleeps?

⏤ ⊹ You are extremely interested in how his body works from a medical point of view, since its physiological characteristics are very different from your understanding of how the human body works. However, Malleus is not a human at all, so your curiosity is understandable.

⏤ ⊹ People are usually horrified by him, or prefer to dissolve in contempt radiating from them. Malleus just chuckles, but he gets puzzled when he's talking to you.

⏤ ⊹ He doesn't quite understand how to respond to such a delicate display of genuine concern, but you're not rushing him anywhere, just asking him to take care of himself a little more.

⏤ ⊹ Once you asked him what could save him if the wounds would be extremely severe.

⏤ ⊹ Maybe he was too serious for answering ‘Your voice would be the best remedy for me’.

⏤ ⊹ He had to consult with Lilia what to do when something aching unbearably right there in his chest, and yet you smile softly at his answer and say that his reply is quite reasonable due to the fact that he is not a human being.

⏤ ⊹ Excellent, now you think that ordinary medicines will not help him (which is also true, but still), because he does not belong to the human race.

⏤ ⊹ However, he is in no hurry. If you’re being patient, then he’s enormously enduring. Why hurry when you have all the time in the whole dimension?..

⏤ ⊹ Will you be happy if he helps you heal all the people in the universe?

⏤ ⊹ Yes, that's right, it's impossible... And yet you selflessly devote yourself to your work, endowing everyone with a gentle smile.

⏤ ⊹ You two often talk about the differences between your worlds while your patients are sleeping.

⏤ ⊹ He learns how you make tea just by looking at your elegant light movements. Malleus is generally very observant, so his eyes are always focused on you. If he continues glancing at you like that, maybe the other students you look after will start spreading rumors that there is something going on between you two.

⏤ ⊹ Malleus is actually absolutely mesmerized by your voice and during those rare days when you have the opportunity to have your time alone with him somewhere outside the infirmary, he asks you to sing anything you would like to.

⏤ ⊹ A lullaby from your world is perhaps the best thing he has ever heard in his entire lifespan.

⏤ ⊹ What an incredible woman you are.

⏤ ⊹ You even know how to wield a cannon. In fact, he wouldn't want to test your abilities and is even glad that you don't use it at all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #honkai star rail

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zyrlovesmizu · 6 months

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y’know I respect a fan’s choice about how they want to view mizu but tiny ramble about it here. this isn’t any sort of discussion or ‘matter of fact’ essay, just a simple rant about headcannons about her being TRANS and her SEXUALITY.

Warning: extremely long.

Given the numerous limitations that would arise from traveling as a woman, I find it very difficult to understand why some people believe Mizu is transgender when it's obvious that she is hiding this information in order to survive. This was particularly true during the Edo period, when women were dehumanized and treated like objects because we only ever see them as a slave or working in a brothel (majority of the show at least). They were also seen having to depend on men for nearly everything, as demonstrated in the episode where the mother and daughter were left outside to freeze to death since her husband was not present to accompany them. Along with that subtle hints were presented to us that show how comfortable she is when in touch with her femininity like a few moments in the episode where she came back to Swords-father Eiji’s hut. Though, I can definitely see why people would label her as transmasc with the theory that she must’ve grown so accustomed to this sort of lifestyle, she’d perhaps just become transmasc in the later episodes. We’ll never know!

Next, not gonna lie, I’m insanely guilty of viewing Mizu as a bisexual women despite feeling that she is leaning more toward heterosexuality in terms of her sexuality. I have the biggest fattest crush on her so I have no problem stating how much I'm crying and wailing over this. Like c’mon, let's be real, I guarantee that 98% of simps are female, and I’m sure every single one of us has mentioned once that we can all treat her better than Mikio and Taigen. Speaking of Taigen, I HAVE to admit that him and Mizu do have the best chemistry compared to everyone in the show. It’s clear in the way she pulls him away from those shooting arrows, knocks him out becahse she fears for his safety if he follows, saving him from Fowler's castle even though she could have easily just left him to die and slain Fowler, etc. At first, I would’ve assumed she’d have trauma with men especially after Mikio’s betrayal which might’ve led her to stray away from any romantic attraction with men—or anybody in general. Honestly, I have dedicated my time to search for ANY hint (ok not rlly) that she might be attracted to women, but the only time I ever see her become flustered by one is when she appears to be taken aback by the prostitues she tried to ask for directions to the Shindo Dojo. Plus, there were only two occasions where she interacted with Akemi that people use to automatically ship them which is when she saw Akemi in her carriage (not sure of the specific name) and pinned her down in Madame Kaji's brothel. I can’t imagine them as a couple in later episodes, something I’m been dying to see. Though, it’s hard to determine what was running in her mind during the scene where they both stole glances at each other, especially since there was no sort of indication in her inner thoughts or emotions, so it’s normal to assume the above as well. (Despite that, I’m still rooting for AT LEAST bisexual Mizu because for the love of god and for the sake of all of the gay women here, PLEASE. /j)

I may make jokes about these headcannons like playfully hating on the TaiMizu ships. All in all, I’m sure the fans are mature enough to understand that these are meant to be lighthearted jokes and that people interpret a character and show in various ways and it’s normal! Even if I can’t comprehend the theory or feel as though it is a little too complicated/really negotiable, remember to support what you want, ship what you want, make whatever headcannons, nobody’s stopping you! Don’t be too afraid to just announce what you feel about the show. All I ask is to avoid SERIOUSLY cancelling someone just because of their own feelings and opinions. In the end, they’re stilll fictional characters (😞😞) who have no sort of physical form of any sort so do whatever, as long as it isn’t really THAT problematic in a sense (e.g. romanticising rape), go for it.

(Sorry for bringing her sexuality into this, I’m aware of how the show is definitely not centering on this and not every single thing has to be LGBTQ-related but I noice it’s something constantly brought up in the fandom. As someone whose phrasing and essay writing skills suck, I’m still learning bit by bit about how the world works in terms of differing views on things. I may not support your idea of a character but I RESPECT it! If I came off as rude, I’m sorry, remember it’s just my random midnight thoughts🙏)

#mizu blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eyed samurai #mizu #tumblr fyp #taigen #taigen blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #headcannons #akemi #transgender #sexuality #rants n rambles #late night rambles #lgbtq #random rants #might get cancelled #tumbler explore page #explore

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ladyduellist · 8 months

Text

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion makes an offer to Tav, later succumbing to his hunger.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 3: Thirst

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 7k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexually Explicit Language, Blood, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

He loved her right away. Her smile. Her creativity. Her heart most of all. He told her he used to have dreams about a woman before he met her, one fitting her description. It seemed like fate when they finally met. They both shared the same affinity for music. When he wrote her a love letters in the first few months of their courtship, he knew she would be his. She thought someone finally understood her. 10 years of a life together. 10 years of the dual natured beast that would wound. 10 years of love and honey of the cycle in between. Until she was numb.

— Evenlit (mother of Tavelle), diary entry 523

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Ah, my favorite traveling companion, do you have a moment to, well, chat?” Astarion’s voice was less theatrical—more thoughtful—than usual as he saddled up next to the bard.

The crew had been traveling on foot again since early morning, deciding not to veer from their previous path. Searching for any signs that could point them in the direction of a healer that could excavate the worms inside their brains, hadn't yielded any results so far.

Tav nodded to Gale and Shadowheart, gesturing them to travel ahead, sensing Astarion needed privacy. The wizard shot her a prudent look under the guise of respecting her quarry to speak with the pallid elf alone.

Astarion didn’t strike her as the kind of man that would revisit a situation once he was rejected. No, he didn’t even seem wounded. Presumably, he would continue to carry on, his pretty lips sheen with dialogue prepped for the next casualty. Sure, it seemed suspicious enough, but if he had already moved on from their ordeal in the temple, there was no reason she should continue to dwell on their—misunderstanding.

Still, there was an awkwardness Tav buried behind her faint smile and neutral eyes. The want to restrict the memory of a foretoken graze of his willowy hands.

As Tav finally regarded him, her thoughts still flickering back to their time in the ruins, she met the garnet of his vision with a cautious gasp stuck in her throat as he stepped closer. The sun’s beams creating a halo around the feathery wisps of his curls, presented Tav with the imagery of an angel that had flown down from the heavens to gather her into his arms. Back arched, pecking along the top of her bosom—a holy sacrament that could convert her to him.

Thy will be done.

Her mouth felt dry. “Of course.”

Their boots slowed, equally matching each other’s footsteps in the dusty loam of the earth. Astarion stared ahead of them, his vision fixed on their two companions, likely watching their distance.

“To be quite frank, I read our little predicament wrong yesterday and took advantage of it without due respect to you. I’m sure that seems a bit odd coming from the likes of someone like me—considerate as I am—but I think we got off on the wrong foot." He absentmindedly scratched his neck. "I suppose even a charlatan like myself can get it wrong sometimes."

Tav was skeptical of his accountability that seemed less than straight-laced. But, it did dawn on her that she may have misjudged a few circuits that intersected within his heart. That, yes, while he seemed to live submerged in coquettish self interest, in this moment of letting her walls down just enough to scramble through some of the thickets of his inner mechanisms, he may be showing an ounce of authenticity.

Yet, there is an element to the contrition of her heart that she dare not speak. To utter it with a covetous breath would mean to give it truth. That while she seduced her thoughts of being filled in ways she had never known within the margins of a romantic relationship, that she was terrified to completely expose herself to another.

Astarion was indubitably beautiful, charming, and humorous. But, beyond those surfaces, she sought connection—maybe just enough to avoid more conflicting emotions to sow. In the minutes, hours, weeks she could stand, she knew love could be cutthroat and messy. Its afflictions: hail and brushfire, a constant bickering. She was unsure if she could ever love or be physically intimate in the way of it crossing the universe again.

The risk was so very grave. No matter the man present in her life, her interests must remain just that—interests.

For she, too, spits the saliva of the devil’s lies to guard the silly thing that is her heart.

“It isn’t as if I told you to halt as soon as it happened. I think we were both caught up in the moment and lust can be a powerful drug.” Her tone was so sickeningly gentle and candid with him.

“Is that a confession?” the man teased.

The songstress jokingly rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Hardly! Astarion, I am 91 years old. You are scarcely the first to try and seduce me.” She looked at him earnestly. “I’m sorry I let it go as far as it did; I have no desire to lead you on. I am attracted to you—gods, how couldn’t I be—but I...”

A silent awareness of their near intimate rush within the dank crypt walls hung thick in the air. Of the primal urge that can arise during traumatic events. The need to rake nails down another’s back. Foreheads slick with sweat. The smell of salt and sex in the air. To live inside one another’s flesh.

The impact of surviving: release.

He crossed his arms. “Enlighten me then. What is it that you’re seeking?”

Tav stayed silent. The truth crippled her heart. She didn’t even know if she believed such a concept existed anymore, belonging solely to romantic folklores of lovers supping droughts of poisons in order to meet one another again in the afterlife.

Astarion searched her face. “Something you think I’m incapable of?”

“I think it is something you’re not accustomed to,” she answered flatly.

“Then, it wouldn’t hurt to aid me with a hint. At the very least to prove you correct.”

Silver tongues belonged to silver serpents. And this, may be a game for him. But, self preservation could be the royal quandary of boundaries and she had already revealed enough. The vulnerability was there, ripe for the winnow of another’s cup, but she couldn’t bear it. Not yet.

A quietness slipped between her lips, the storm of her optics solemn. “…we do not know each other adequately yet.”

Astarion held his chin between his fingers, deep in thought. He reminded her of a scholar that endlessly agonized over scripts with his rumpled skin set amidst two silvery brows.

“Hmm. Tav, you’re really overthinking this. What I am offering—and desire, mind you—is a distraction. A short term fling to take us away from all this madness we’ve found ourselves in. But, if you prefer a less invasive course: what about friendship?”

“Annnnd, if you find yourself wanting that distraction, the offer will always be available,” he added swiftly with a quick wink.

The bard couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “You’ll be the first gentleman I’ll call upon in that case then! But, as for a friendship with you…I’d like that. A lot, in fact.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, mouth perfectly molded into that of the trickster. “This whole conversation has been enlightening. In the spirit of ‘friendship’ and since we have gotten those unpleasant decrees out of the way, I believe this requires a bit of a reintroduction." He ceased his steps, placing a hand on his hip, while the other crossed over his chest. "My name is Astarion. I was a magistrate back in Baldur’s Gate. I enjoy a needle and thread, gilded chalices, and whatever other indulgences I can sink my teeth into. And you?”

And there was that darling blush creeping up the tenderness of her neck anew.

With all that hubris, Tav was amazed his head didn’t inflate thrice its size. Still, she played along, not discounting the potential for this being a gateway for better camaraderie.

A huff accompanied a subtle smile. “My name is Tavelle, but Tav is generally preferred by most. I was a traveling bard. I lived in Baldur’s Gate for the past year before the mind flayers came. I enjoy reading, a fine glass of bourbon, and the art of sword-fighting.”

“A bard? My, my. I’m sure the patriars just adored you, darling! To live in the Gate for that amount of time without winding up on the streets with folded hands begging for coin or between the sheets of some foolish braggart that doesn’t deserve your affections, warrants much more credit than I afforded you earlier,” he appraised her wryly.

Tav giggled coyly. She observed the high elf momentarily permitting himself to study the lifting of her own crinkling vision, down to the demure smile she flashed him.

“It seems you’ve misjudged me sir magistrate. A lady never reveals how she’s managed to work the entire city fawning over her! Though, I will say, it surely isn’t because of anything I’ve worked towards. I shudder to think I have any actual real prowess worth speaking about,” Tav bantered back sarcastically.

Bantering was not her typical forte. She had a quirky sense of humor about her, albeit a bit dark at times—she certainly wouldn’t consider herself to be an expert in the art of wit—but Astarion was bringing this side of her to light out of the blue. It was fun. Playful. An escape of sugary and sour amusements reserved for them alone. She couldn’t get enough.

“And where, my dear, has all this surprisingly sharp humor clawed its way out of? You’re typically so quiet of nature. Who knew our songbird had so much to say!” The way his mirth emerged itself when he bared his teeth to her in a dashing simper, caused her heart to skip a beat.

He tilted his head and grinned more broadly, as if there were an inside joke he had immediately recalled. Like he had heard the hiccup of her bloody organ.

“I may be introverted, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy talking to others. Especially if it’s someone as charming as youuuu.” Another melody of a titter, her eyes so exceptionally spirited.

They both laughed.

Stepping closer to him, her fingers twiddled with the thrown plait of dark ash brown over her shoulder. She casted her steely blue gaze downward before raising them to his face, the lower portion of her lip bitten in thought.

“Thank you for speaking with me and trying to understand. Truly.”

Bong! The bell’s toll striked and the hunt began. With teeth real sharp and a charming grin.

Tav noticed his pupils track her teeth wedged into the soft plush of her lip as he swallowed gradually. ”Hmm? Yes, of course. Now as much as I’d enjoy teasing you relentlessly for the rest of the day, we should probably get moving.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

As eventide washed over the land, the party decided on a night of respite before their visit to the Grove. Now aided by the addition of Lae’zel, the githyanki warrior, their dreadful circumstance had become notably strenuous. Two wary tiefling guards from a place called Druid's Grove, had captured her in a cage, frightened of the havoc she may cause. Her claim to have access to an apparatus that could rectify their tadpoles was a chance they could not all agree would be worth investigating, but Tav insisted they listen to the information she volunteered, offering her space within their elusive band.

However, she did not mince words once they were around the comforting light of their nightly fire. The flames casted a glow of saffron and tangelo reflecting onto the group’s complexions, bathing them in balmy heat. Shadowheart and the gith were standing near with arms crossed and irritated voices. Round green eyes narrowed on darker buttery skin. Razor teeth gritted and ready to spit.

“My people possess a cure for this infection. We will interrogate this Zorru at the Grove about where he saw my kin—unless you wish to sacrifice yourself to ghaik?” She was irrefutable in her credence, hellbent on reaching the githyanki crèche she deduced was nearby.

“Tav, she sees your kindness as a weakness. She will exploit it,” Shadowheart warned, pointing a finger at the bard.

Astarion slid past them, finding Tav sitting atop a massive piece of driftwood log by the fire. Her doublet was unbuckled, revealing a thin cream linen shirt underneath, tied lazily near her neckline. Relaxed and humming a whimsical tune, she had been pulling the last of her plait out while she seemed to be ignoring the two women's altercation.

She did not greet Astarion, instead resigning to a serene smile with a faint sprinkling of pink upon her skin as he watched her focus on running her fingers through her tangles. Even when his lissome form sat down beside her, fingers unknotting a snag, she still held the same expression.

Until out of nowhere, her voice caught him off guard, puncturing through the air between them. “Good evening, magistrate.”

Oh, did he ever bask in hearing the use of his former job title as if he still held a position of power. A fantasy of Tav pecking the coolness of his knuckles in reverence. “You’re not a monster, Astarion,” she’d whisper. The sly minx. He twitched in his pants.

The vampire bent down, his breath brisk against the point of her ear, inhaling the scent of natural oils from her hair. He was automatically taken back to their short affair inside the temple as he watched her skin prickle. Part of a plan failed, but not lost.

“Lae’zel is delightful. In a very ‘look at me twice and I’ll dismember you’ kind of way—of course,” he whispered.

Tav dramatically scoffed. Her hand drifted next to his bicep, placing it reservedly on him. She was climbing, climbing, climbing up, spreading her warmth over the sleeve of his jacket. It was seeping through—she was seeping through.

Her lips were a mellow heat and soft hush near his lobe. “Sounds like a challenge, Astarion. You have my support. Don’t let her get away!”

He modestly turned his head at the precise moment she descended from his ear to see her bottom lip swiftly bitten in a carefree simper. The same as she had done during their earlier conversation.

But, if he lifted the frail veil over her face, would he find her lips murmuring in prayer for him? For his cuspids to glide across her soft flesh. Mouth open and wet. On your knees, sweetheart. I will save you.

Then, there was a hunger present. A vivid thought of his teeth, latching onto that same part of her lip. Licking. Sucking. Kneading. His cock half erect. Until he bites into it and…

He cleared his throat, forcing the impure fantasy to subside, begging whatever divine beings that would consent to listen to not let their mind worms connect at that precise moment. If he didn’t gain momentum on the aching thirst he felt, everything would be lost.

Astarion leaned in closer, one of his longer curls unfurling, brushing against the side of her forehead like a feather landing in a dusting of snow. He delivered another punchline within distance of her temple. “You wretch. How could I ever say no?!”

Then, his voice was a purr. A final insert, one that neither the gods nor he can help himself but to taste on his tongue. “Though, quite recently, I’ve found my attention has been fixated on the enjoyment of wordplay with a friend.”

He could feel Tav shift nervously at his side, removing her hand calmly from him, folding it with the other in her lap. She turned her head halfway, peering over towards where Gale had been cooking their evening meals. There was a plume of flush resonating from her neck to her cheeks, contrasting against the ivory tone of her skin that sent a devil’s smirk on his lips.

All was not lost, after all, he thought.

“Gale appears overwhelmed. I should probably offer my help,” she muttered considerably, without acknowledging Astarion further.

Tav stood, placing the length of her wavy locks to hang like a waterfall down her back. She drifted towards the other side of the flames. Astarion watched her stroll towards the wizard, hips swaying like branches in the night’s breeze. Those same hips that were only inches away from him a few moments ago—inviting and wide.

Astarion leisurely rose, walking back to his tent to procure a bottle of a long forgotten red and a dingy goblet. He could overhear Tav and Gale discussing plans to prepare a suitable meal for their entourage with items from the packs they had picked through.

Gale appeared quite accustomed to cooking, skilled in frying meats to that perfect amount of crisp—or at least he had boasted. He passed along an enticing grin with a wiggle of his eyebrows towards Tav when he flipped a piece of sliced sausage midair and it landed right back in its starting position.

Tav beamed, "I see you are a man of many talents. Please never ask me to cook food so acrobatically for you. I promise it will not end well.”

“I fear, after this, I may have unofficially put myself in the position of ‘Camp Cook’ for our group. Food tricks and all. Though, let us resign from asking Lae’zel to help with food prep. I fear she’d insist on using that massive sword of hers on a poor tomato.”

“Not to worry, Gale. We’ll be sure to find you an apron and embroider your new title upon it so that everyone knows what you’re truly here for.” Tav appeared at his side, teasingly patting his arm.

Astarion cocked his brow, casting a sneer towards the two chefs before taking a large sip from an matured cup of wine. He disappeared behind the flap of red linen to change into a set of clothes that were more casual.

Folded neatly on his bedroll was an old ruffled shirt. Beloved and cared for over a long period of time. Multiple tears were visible, but each was stitched up with such precision, one would have thought they were graced with the surgical deftness of a doctor. Removing his intricately detailed coat, he carefully put the shirt over his torso and rolled the length of his sleeves up to his elbows—a particular piece of flair he added over an age.

This shirt was one of the few things that belonged to him in some fashion. When it was handed over to him as a “gift,” Astarion was aware that he would receive no other unless his behavior was considered favorable. For he would never be glorified for his contributions to his “family.” No, his tears were the sapid dessert that he demanded.

"Ungrateful boy. Your sobs will serve as my music tonight. Now bend over and cast your eyes to the hells for want of a contract with a hellion that will never save you from the flay."

Astarion crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself. A chilled sweat trickled down his forehead. Four walls baked in musk and blood: the kennels. His usual practiced breaths became gasping and erratic. He felt light-headed, needing to escape. His head started to scream louder than a harpy’s screech.

Yet, her mellifluous voice was sneaking into his ears, smoking out the curse that haunted him. It swirled around his body, protecting him, tugging him towards the source.

“Astarion. Astarion? Are you okay?!” Tav called out to him in concern.

He ran his fingers through his curls. Steady. Slow. The fabric walls of his tent come back into view.

Then, the roguish rake scratched its way back up his throat. “Ah, my sweet songbird! To think you left your handsome wizard to come sauntering all the way over here to look for me. You must be looking for refinement after all!”

He opened the flap to his tent dramatically like a ringmaster inviting patrons into a circus. Only, when he stepped out to face the bard whose voice granted him redemption, her appearance was perturbed.

Tav appeared sickly, like the blood had been drained from her upper body. A visible worry inscribed into the fine lines by her nose. She stood still and lifted her arm. Then, opened and closed her hand several times as if she wanted to reach out to touch him before deciding to rescind it entirely.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you were hurt. Your breathing…I thought I heard you in pain.” A tiny bit of breath left her mouth as if she were relieved. “Dinner is ready. I’ll give you time to collect yourself and head back.”

The elf bowed his head in her direction. “I assure you, I am fine. Run along; I’ll be right behind you.”

And then her smile was suddenly the first day of Spring. “You better or I will drag you over there!”

Precious angelic lark. Do not despair. Your wings will serve as the gateway for those that capture you.

Astarion wondered if he had chosen wrong.

No. He was rarely—if ever—wrong about his targets. Tav just presented more of a challenge. Had he not succumbed to the numbness he enacted to conserve what was left of his mental state long ago, guilt may have plagued the bits of humanity he plummeted away from Cazador.

She did possess a certain loveliness to her. Not in the way of grand belles he’d bedded in the past, but one that’s described in poesy passages of endearing semi-guileless women, whose beauty shines through beyond being skin deep. Anyone would be a damned fool to think otherwise. But, an intangible hole existed inside her beating elvish heart that had not yet fully healed. Only, the path to her is strewn with meteors and fragile stars. An unanticipated detail overlooked, one he did not predict as he tried to lure her in the ruins with the aphrodisiacs' of his actions.

He sighed. Had this been one of his usual haunts on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, with less time to devote to his victim, he could easily capture another with memorized lines and rehearsed “fuck me eyes.” All he knew were the instincts of a man that seduced centuries worth of people, using his body to be the prostitute his master commanded.

Where Tav was involved, simply uttering honeyed speeches or licking an oath of exiled pleasures she had never experienced in a stripe along her slit, would not be enough.

But, what of trust?

Ah. Now trust carried power. However, the caveat to such an assured reliance was the privilege of obtaining it. Trust gleaned through lust was manageable. But, trust through measures of safekeeping another’s hope and beliefs came with greater transactions.

If this songbird meant to be Astarion’s silver lining, then he would make her sing.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Their lifeblood waits for you.

“Astarion, I don’t believe I’ve seen you eat a single morsel since you’ve been with us. You must be hungry? Here, there’s plenty to go around.” Gale brought the skillet over, sliding a portion of the food onto the remaining plates as the high elf approached.

You’re hungry.

He peeked over at the food sardonically. “As scrumptious as I’m sure—whatever all that—probably is, I will have to...decline. I have other sources of food stowed away. Regardless, you have my thanks.”

Starving.

Gathered around the campfire, they finished their meals while listening to Lae’zel speak about her crèche, K’liir, in the Tears of Selûne. Astarion couldn’t be less interested. He had no real family to speak of anymore—not that he remembered them—probably perishing many moons ago as it were. And the only place he called home, was the necrotic palace encased in stone towering over the lower city of Baldur’s Gate where dreams of a life go to wither.

”Your path is paved in blood. Your body does not belong to you. It was created to tempt. It is food created for anyone that craves it. Fuck your prick into anything that wants it. Your lips to press to whatever rotted or young flesh that desires it. You will never be anything more.”

Astarion refocused, nursing a goblet of wine as he leaned back against the log he had previously sat on with Tav. He caught the jovial expression on her face as she focused on each of them as they spoke—primarily that obtuse magician. The fucking gall of that wizard. I bet he gloated about his ‘mage hand’ all evening, he seethed.

Blood. You need to feed.

He needed to distract her. To cull her affections and isolate them on this farce of a relationship, ill-conceived by his want to survive.

Her. Your fangs want to be inside her, tearing at her throat. To taste the aurora of her voice as her blood warms you.

“Tav, dearest, why don’t you sing us a song from that arsenal of ballads you keep in that pretty little head of yours?”

The bard perked up, turning towards Astarion, her blue-gray depths wide as a doe. She was one of the moving pieces on the chessboard he satiated himself with.

Take her.

Though his request seemed innocent enough, the slithering leer of his gape seemed to make her feel abashed by the way she regarded him with her stare. This was all part of his cunning gambit of word wrestling they had begun to establish. And she knew what he was doing—of course she had to know. Astarion had the gumption to detect that she was conscious, but still uncertain, if he had only meant to tease her, to see her nonplussed in the moment, or if there laid an alternative motive to the glint of his impish smirk.

Her rosy lips parted slightly, a paltry excuse upon her tongue. “My lute perished in the crash.”

“Come now, it is not your lute that beguiles your audience with its voice. Do not keep us waiting, friend,” he winked, ushering her forward with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

Hunt her.

Tav did not argue. Perhaps to avoid further complications of the night or maybe because she recognized her talents had the ability to bring about a halcyon wave to their troubled comrades.

Though, as the first few notes she gifted to them uncurl like clear bells on silver tinsel decorating the reticence of the camp, her audience was now hers to command.

Taste her.

Tav's voice was ethereal, knitting together a story through the eyes of a traveler discovering fealty to happiness itself. She sang as if she were a holy entity within a chapel alone. The poetry of her words, the flames that would light the candles to the gods.

The winds spun around them, carrying her tune in ripples. Confidently, her eyes passed over to Astarion with a radiant warmth and he was motionless. As she reached a fluttering note, the bluish vein of her white satiny neck—a visible interference—caused an unexpected delirium.

Yes. Her blood will be the sweetest.

She had managed to do the impossible and hypnotize him entirely.

He had to have her. Just a taste.“Magistrate, please bite me.”

She’s yours. She’s yours. She’s yours.

The thrumming of his soul mate mark was a tittering of butterfly wings behind his ear. Astarion touched the sensitive area, crimson view darkened. Tonight. Tonight he would damn himself and be set free.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

”I love you, birdie,” he breathed into the nape of Tav’s neck.

The sunlight had just broken through with the dawn, casting illuminating golden beams onto their naked bodies. They were entangled with one another. Limbs thrown over limbs. Algos, her lover, spooning against her back. Pale and ruddy against his farmer’s tan.

He moved her cool brown locks away from her neck, placing a tender kiss near her hairline.

“Mmm. You spoil me,” she sighed lovingly.

“Not nearly enough.” He grabbed her chin, pulling it towards him.

Tav turned onto her side. She trailed her fingers daintily up his arm, then to the soft skin around orbs of near obsidian that were his eyes. If only she could freeze this moment. Collect it in a bottle and bury it within herself so the details, this exact moment, would never shift.

She scooted closer to him, the weight of her breasts hanging off to the side squishing them together. Her lips so soft, pliant, pressing to his own. They were slightly chapped, but doughy. The dreamiest of exhales left her nostrils.

He leaned in to kiss her back. One peck after the other, along her jaw, her chin. An amorous embrace accompanied by the heat of his breath kindling her neck again.

“Taste me, Algos.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion hovered over Tav as she awoke with his mouth wide open, crisp air caressing her neck. His lips receded past their gums with teeth a pearly sheen in the light of the candle she had lit inside her tent.

“...shit.” He cursed.

Her eyes opened wide in confusion, watching Astarion swiftly backing away from her. She was furious. “What the FUCK are you doing?! Explain. NOW.”

Tav grabbed the rapier she kept at her side while she tranced and brought her wobbly self up to nearly her full height without hitting the tent's ceiling. Her body’s temperature was still cool from resting, leaving her partially disoriented. She was dressed in nothing, except her smalls and a gauzy linen shirt that barely reached past her bottom.

“No, it’s not what it looks like! I swear. I’ve never killed anyone—at least for food. I wasn’t going to hurt you!” He was crouching, his hands up in surrender.

There was a disbelieving jeer she hissed out. “No?! Do not play these games with me, Astarion! I am not an idiot. It looked like you were either going to bite me or assault me. I will run this rapier right through your ribs if you don’t leave immediately!” She pointed it towards him aggressively.

His voice was an octave above a shaking whisper, rounded eyes staring at her shamefully. “Wait, please! I just needed—blood. For food. I’m far weaker than I’d like to acknowledge. It’s pathetic.”

Then, when he altered his weight onto his other hip, the fine lines around his mouth having grown from their stressful interaction, she finally noticed. Astarion's lustrous teeth had sharp fangs, one on each side in place of a human’s usual canines. His pallid color looked even more unnatural than she paid attention to previously. The bluish hue bags of his eyes, a bit darker—presumably from lack of food.

A slave to his sanguine hunger.

Her voice was suddenly breathy. And then, as quietly as she could manage, she fanned out an unsettling laugh. “A vampire. Of all the things…why didn’t you tell me?!”

Astarion opened his mind and bid Tav to connect with his tadpole. She saw it unfolding. He held back some of the pieces that fit into the jigsaw that was him, but then there was something hungry and on edge removing parts of himself he’d never get back. His mind opened further revealing quaking, ruptured memories of tyrannical eyes commanding him to eat the only creature he was allowed: rats.

Then, the connection dissipated.

“You were forced to eat them or else you would have to starve? By the gods, Astarion,” she heedfully replied, lowering the rapier and propping it against one of the tent walls.

Tav registered she’d wept a few tears when a salty one dipped into the cupid’s bow of her lips. The raw mental images he shared with her were intense. This was not what she had expected from him, regardless of him being a vampire or a mortal. Her heart ached for him and if she knew he would have allowed it, she would have pulled him into a hug, muttering that he was safe into the crown of his hair.

“I—yes. Whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. I hope this explains why I was slow to trust you,” he hesitated awkwardly, adjusting his stance to try and relax his arms at his side. “But, right now, I do trust you. And you can trust me too. I may be out of line in asking you to trust me further, but if I only had just a little blood, I could fight better and my mind would be clear. Please.”

Tav considered his proposal, the desperation in his presently softer accent. If she consented to him feeding from her, she ran the risk of him killing her—either on purpose or by accident if he could not control his hunger. However, she cannot deny this may be one of the first times since they’ve interacted that he was being ethically truthful with her. That he was aware of the risks if he did take her life. There would no longer be the presumption of his security nor the help of removing their worms.

The decision to be made was dangerous; she would not have much time to decide for the sake of herself, Astarion, and their sordid companions.

“You wish to feed from me, correct? But, not my neck. Not yet, anyways. Not until I know you’ll abide by your words in the future. Because you know as well as I do, that you certainly have a way with them,” she unexpectedly jested. “Will my wrist suffice for now?”

Astarion nodded quizzically. “I would only need a taste and not a drop more. If I wind up with a stake in my heart, well, I probably had it coming,” he chuckled. “That being said, your wrist is more than fine. Shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

Tav shook her head to reaffirm her consent and proceeded to sit on top of her bedroll in a cross legged pose, her shirt resting high above her pale thighs. The rosy buds of her nipples had pebbled, poking through the shirt’s fabric. Her areolas, a delightful crepe pink, faintly visible in the light.

Slowly, she rolled up the left sleeve of her shirt, revealing tattoo work inked intricately up the length of her arm. On her forearm, half of a falcon’s bust sat—mastery in keen observation—with iridescent blue and brown feathers. Up further, a white fox glared, clever, yet ready to strike. Each adorned in ornamental elven helmets surrounded by nature’s leaves and flowers only adding to the woman’s earthly beauty.

Astarion bent down to rest on his knees in front of her, the smooth leather of his pants tantalizingly grazing against her shins. She could see him studying her figure, switching to view ink on her arm. Then, he lingered on the shape of her breasts through her shirt, and back up to the flush that was spreading over her cheeks. He held out his arm towards her, his hand facing up.

“Whenever you’re ready.” His voice was soothing, humble even, gently inviting her to sacrifice herself to him.

May your blood be consecrated, the sacrament fulfilled. Waste not, want more. For you give yourself willingly for his power and nourishment. The gods be with you.

She extended her arm, first dropping her index finger into his palm, then tip-toeing the rest of her digits until her hand fully rested on his own. The glacial temperature of his skin flowed through her body entirely like titillating electricity. Tav bit back a moan when his other hand covered hers and moved up to the inside of her wrist, caressing the silky skin.

It had been years since she was touched so intimately by a man. The sensations with each movement of his fingertips rubbing circles into her skin, caused her to swallow down a gasp. Every instinctual nerve inside of her was at war, either to push him away to the far reaches of Faerûn or to offer her blood to the man that somehow made her feel virginal by the swipe of his lithe fingers across her palm.

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m nervous and you're cold,” Tav uttered with a shudder.

“Hmm.” Astarion continued massaging, occasionally feeling the throb of her pulse. “Where are you from originally? Your birth place.”

“Wha—the Dalelands,” she managed to answer.

“And which of your parents is a high elf?” he continued.

“My father. My mother is a wood elf. How did you know?

He smiled tenderly. “I could tell by your fair features.”

She tilted her head towards him. Was he trying to distract her? The efforts were working.

He lifted her wrist to his faded pink lips, placing them airily on the stretch of her visible veins. A chilled breath exhaled through his elegant nose. “Why did you move to Baldur’s Gate?

Arrhythmia started overtaking the organ in her chest. She fisted the edge of her shirt in her free hand, sighing heavily. “I needed a change of scenery—to start anew.”

Astarion pecked her wrist. A shallow gravel of his throat vibrated against her skin when he lightly started to suckle on the outline of her vein.

She cried out sweetly. Her chest swelled in tandem with the swift movements of her breathing, but not from the nervousness she thought would plague her stomach with knots. No, it was from the longing ache of skin to skin contact he had unknowingly granted her.

"Shhh. Shh. We wouldn't want to wake anyone now would we?" He lightly bit her finger in warning and then slid his tongue back up to her wrist.

Tav was wet. Considerably so. She felt the petals of her cunt drench in want the longer he prolonged his desires for her blood. It occurred to her that he may be waiting for her to give him the final confirmation for him to bite her, but oh hells, when she noticed his bulge straining in his pants, she conjured up a reverie of her climbing into his lap and grinding herself up and down his length begging for him to take her.

Astarion moaned into her wrist. He had trailed his left hand up to hold her elbow, while the right still held onto her hand, waiting patiently. Her clit was throbbing; she would have given anything to move even the slightest bit to feel pressure placed upon it. Any sort of relief to wash over her to abate the shivers of her flesh, to shake the image of him biting and sucking on her breasts.

Eyes half-lidded, she willed herself to speak. “Astarion?”

Rubbing the point of his fangs in contact with her flesh, his tone was huskier. “Yes, Tavelle?”

Dear Oghma grant mercy on this woman!

It had been the first time he had mentioned the full length of her name and it was as clear as a magical forest revealing a trail to honeyed fruits that she should not partake in. What kind of man could be capable of appearing as both a divine creature and one that could lure her into the shadows?

Burning, burning, burning.

“Bite me.”

The sting of his fangs entering her wrist was like two icy shards stabbing her. Her blood filled his mouth in short spurts and he had trouble containing it all. At the corners of his mouth, two streams of her red essence dribbled down towards his chin.

Astarion gripped onto her arm tighter, involuntarily pulling her closer to him. Greedily, he gulped her down, sometimes stopping to lick at the puncture wounds before wrapping his maw around her wrist once more to swallow her down. He hummed in pleasure the longer he drank, possessed by the taste.

Tav felt lethargic. “ ‘Starion.”

He didn’t hear her. The scarlet of his eyes had grown foggy with a glaze of something voracious and abysmal. Guttural sounds accompanied slurps of her blood as his fangs dug in deeper.

Tav’s head fell forward meekly. She grasped onto his silvery curls with the strength that was slowly being depleted and tugged. “Astarion you must—NO MORE!”

All at once, he released her, falling backwards onto his elbows. He licked his fingers with a pleasing noise, as if he’d just treated himself to an extravagant feast.

“You were—you tasted amazing!” Breathing in quick shudders he added, "I feel…happy. Strong. My mind isn’t clouded.”

Still slumped over, she attempted to placate the vertigo that was causing her head to swim by regulating her breathing. She sounded raspy. “Could you please help me to lay down?”

“Ah! Yes, but of course. It’s the least I could do after that invigorating experience.”

Astarion crawled over to her. Cradling her against his torso, he considerately brought her down to rest on her bedroll. It was flattened, probably uncomfortable, but to Tav and her ailing situation—it felt perfect.

“Are you alright?” he asked, leaning over her, wiping her sweaty bangs from her face.

His scent rolled over her, lulling her to enter a trance. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, perhaps from her adrenaline spiking, but it was pure heaven. Bergamot, rosemary, and smokier warm notes.

“Mmhmm. A bit weak is all.”

She reached up and wiped the drying blood from his chin and lips with her sleeve, providing him with a tired smile. “Astarion? Thank you for trusting me tonight.”

He tensed as she touched him. Jaw tight. A furrowed brow. His eyes moved back and forth, searching hers. Something uncharacteristic briefly showed behind his inspection of her, then fleetingly faded away.

Strange.

Standing upright, Astarion turned to leave her tent. He looked over his shoulder, his voice a serious temper. “Rest well. I still need to hunt to fill myself completely, but this was a gift you know. I won’t forget it. ”

Snuggling into her blankets, she recalled the events of the night. The bizarre appeal of his icy breath. The arousal she felt when he stroked her. The pain mixed with carnal desire as he bit her. The weight of truths they shared. His unforeseen concern for her comfort. A veracity of his soul, bared to her before he left.

And as her lashes laid in long weaves along the edges of her closed eyelids, her last thoughts as she drifted off to enter the dream realm, were about the closeness Astarion unintentionally gave her that she hadn’t felt in years.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion acunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldur's gate #epistles of saints & sinners #bard tav #spawn astarion

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stormy-caffeine · 2 months

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Didn't want to bog down previous reblog's tags with my thoughts, hopefully someone resonates with this or could share their thoughts.

On the non-man/non-woman discussion of sexuality descriptions, I have conflicted feelings because while I acknowledge that it is an incredibly unhelpful descriptor to use for broad definitions such as with vincian and lesbian, I personally resonate with it as both a person descriptor and sexuality preference.

I am multigender and genderfluid, to the point it was very difficult for a long time to really understand what I wanted from others in the long run or what my transition goals looked like. The only thing I knew for sure is that I am not a woman.

I'm not a binary man, claiming to be one for passing situations in the future makes me feel queasy and stressed because it just isn't true, but it's more true than staying in the closet and continuing to present as a woman. I have been many things and I may be many more, sometimes I am nothing and something at once and have to navigate that with myself, things get complicated. But the one thing that remains constant is that I am a non-woman.

When it comes to relationships, I have only ever been able to imagine myself as a queer guy. Younger me took that as an indication (before I realized romantic and sexual attractions are different and that gender and body are separate things) that I could never be interested in a female or feminine person whatsoever, but that isn't true. As I've grown and gotten more comfortable both with myself and others, I've realized the parts on someone's body, their clothes, their pronouns, etc, have no correlation to how I feel about them, I'm attracted to their gender - so long as that gender is non-woman.

The more complex feelings come in when I try to analyze myself further, because it's hard to think of things inside a vacuum. The connotation of non-woman is very restrictive when it comes to others because it disconnects a lot of people who are bigender, multigender, some who are androgyne (some see it as distinct like I do, while others are both binary genders at once which would make them partially a woman), some who are genderfluid, everyone who is pangender, people who live/have lived as women, etc etc etc. People with contradictory or overlapping labels then have to be considered, anyone who uses a label that is usually reserved for women or indicates the user is a woman is now someone I have to consider if I would be attracted to in a vacuum, their gender divorced from who they are, but just like the other examples this is impossible. You cannot divorce someone's gender from someone's personhood, they morph and form each other indefinitely.

If I were to date someone who is genderfluid between man and woman, would I be able to love them? They are not a non-woman strictly or on a regular basis. If I were only to love a portion of a person, that wouldn't be truly loving them or showing respect for the other portions of them. In everyday life, maybe they choose to present as a man to others and use traditional masculine pronouns. Would this make it easier for me? Would I be able to feel for them presenting as a non-woman, despite knowing somewhere in them is a woman as well? If they asked me to refer to them as a woman and use feminine pronouns, would what feeling I do develop for them as a man change or go away? I would hope not. But I couldn't promise them that.

If I were to be with someone who is sometimes a woman or partially a woman, it would feel like an inherently disrespectful effort. I would be degendering a part of them with my affection, no matter how much I didn't want to. When I feel attraction, it's as a non-woman projecting emotion to someone like myself. I am gay in a very broad sense, I am attracted to what I am and I am many. But I am not everything, and I cannot connect to that other experience genuinely.

Despite this, I don't want terms that I would use for myself cut off from those who are different from me. Even if I identify as a gay man, a vincian, an achillean, etc etc etc, every man should be able to identify as those terms as well, if they feel it fits them. Because they know themself best. It is not up to me or anyone else to say that a man is not a vincian just because they are also a woman or perhaps also a lesbian. It does not suddenly make them a non-man to be a woman, just as being a woman does not make someone a non-man. The only thing it does mean, is that that person isn't for me. Period.

If a man states that he is a gay man/vincian/etc, and includes everyone who I would not personally include in that orientation, that does not mean he labeled himself incorrectly. He just doesn't have the personal restrictions that I have, and that is beautiful.

Things are messy and complicated and it makes finding someone who is right for you even harder if you get stuck on the "correctness" of feelings and labels. I know where my personal limits are for connecting with someone, and I know what terms speak to me and which ones make me feel hollow. And that's really all that matters.

The second we start policing other people because we insist on thinking we know better than they do, that they're just wrong about what and who they are or that they're identifying in some way to upset others instead of to be happy, we lose. We lose a part of community that could have fostered understanding and friendships. We lose trust in others even knowing who we are in fear of rejection from those who should know better. We lose a part of our sanity in restricting other people's feelings for the sake of artificial "accuracy", as if we could ever "accurately" know their thoughts and feelings better than themself. And if it continues we will only continue to lose parts of our own autonomy as more things are determined as "inaccurate" and eventually "inappropriate" or "harmful."

There are many issues with the terms non-man and non-woman. So, so many issues when it comes to succinctly identifying who is and is not such-and-such. But that doesn't mean we can restrict people from using it for themselves or even for using it as a definition of their own orientation. The only thing we can do is discourage people from unnecessarily policing and restricting others based on flawed understanding of who "can" be a man or woman, and educating them that there are an infinite number of possibilities for someone identifying with gendered labels that may not "make sense" to them.

Humans are made to exist and experience life, not to make sense.

#storm.txt #storm.vent #storm.pride #non man #non woman #discussion #lgbt discussion #contradictory labels #multigender #pangender #genderfluid #nonbinary #genderqueer #gay #lesbian #vincian #queer

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limeade-l3sbian · 10 months

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Some time ago, before I cut contact with my dad, I would often contemplate his mindset. Not of why he was so lackluster in all manners of fatherhood but about his unbiased, objective few of me as a girl and, now, a woman.

On some obligatory level, I know my dad loves me. I think his perspective of what makes someone a “good Christian” demands this of him. And in a small percentage of the time we spent together, he might love me for the child he knew. And to hear that a father loses interest in his daughter when she grows up/develops the ability to defy and to think is not a new experience. There were telltale signs of it coming so I was fully prepared. But I expected a casual indifference when we got to the point we are now. He would lie about me to the family and retain his desperate image of a father “trying his best.” Like I said, I saw it coming years before.

But it didn't really play like that. Because while he definitely began to detach, there was this frustration and rage in his eyes when he spoke to me. When I called him out. When I didn't just shrug off what he said. He was so angry when I threatened to stop talking to him for a while and followed through. As a child, he couldn't understand why I chose to live with my mom in a homeless shelter over staying with him and his now ex-wife. And there are a handful of family facts and personal history that I won't just spill but I know for a fact play a part in this. I was more interested in his objective perspective of me, like I said.

And to be frank? My dad loves me in a very superficial way, but in no way likes me. My family is the type that say “blood is thicker than water” no matter what. Generations of abuse and neglect founded on the back of “respect” that is inherited rather than earned. My mom was the first to make me challenge that, and I think my dad resents her for that to this day.

When I was younger, I considered him cool. Especially since he seemed supportive of my feminist ideology that I garnered very early on by just being with my mom. My thoughts then and now? How can a woman's place only be by a man's side when my mom has given me as much of the world as she can without one? I just wasn't buying. But he always told me he wanted me to be independent and strong. So I can give him that credit. No one in my life ever told me I couldn't be whatever I wanted to be, and that is a real blessing I don't take lightly.

But his support had a veil of contrasting expectations. I didn't have to wear makeup…but I should have my hair pressed or braided. I could wear pants instead of skirts…but you need to ask your mom to teach you how to shave. The role models he thrusted upon me were strong figures still deeply layered under a presentation that was appealing, especially to him. To him, they were still “women.” Strong but ever willing to submit.

And his support always came with imaginings. When I inevitably became rich, he would joke that I could get him things. When I won a writing award as a kid, he didn't drive me home for twenty minutes until he finished boasting to his friend about me. He thought I was the most intelligent person he'd ever met. If I could just stop being so disagreeable and more presentable then the world would be my oyster.

And as an adult, hearing him speak, I could finally understand why my average intelligence seemed like such a world shattering achievement. Because to my father, I was intelligent in spite of being born female. I immediately thought back to all his interactions with women. How they were either dismissive or lewd. How he rolled his eyes when my stepmom would demand basic respect from him. And I'd laugh with him. [Go ahead and insert infamous quote about how it will not save the daughter.]

His perception of women was secondary. Adam's rib. He wanted to raise me as Eve and felt (and feels) cursed that he was bound by blood to Lilith. And the only Christian thing to do is spend the rest of his life trying to change me. And when I came out, that thin smile of support from him told me that he felt his ability to control not just slipping, but being yanked. I did not recognize men as authority. His only card he had and has left is that we are bound forever by blood.

But I don't care about blood. The water of strangers and women in my life and in this community has carried me further in life than blood ever has or, at this point, ever will.

#don't judge me if anything got autocorrected #i was on my way to work and wrote this on my phone

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sir-yeehaw-paws · 8 months

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If you don't mind I'm going to be horribly demanding and request more delicious thoughts on Kaz and his female coded story. Sorry but I'm eating this all up!!

No sweat Anon! I will say it's a thought I kinda had offhandedly once and left alone for a long time, so I'm having to think way back a bit as I consider it.

As an obvious quick note too, it's sort of a random interpretation I had. It doesn't have any real bearing on canon anymore than my other random thoughts do. It was kind of like, at some point, I noticed that Kaz had a storyline and writing style I've gotten used to seeing but with women.

The jilted ex hellbent on revenge. Someone who is more well known in story for his emotional issues vs how physically imposing or strong he is or isn't. I don't know about everyone else, but when I first think of Kaz, the most memorable thing that comes to mind is his emotions. Being unable to manage ones anger is very 'masculine' a trait, but being beholden to those emotions is a 'feminine' quality.

I'll say too, revenge as a motivator is a common story theme. And its very present in films and the like. This is certainly not a 'female only' thing, and there's SO much nuance that has to be applied. And to be perfectly blunt, I can't fully articulate 100% why I especially have this feeling with him, but at some point in one of my nightly Kaz spirals, I had the thought of "Kaz is written the way I'm used to women being written", and, after mentioning it, I sat on it, never gave it really much expansion, and haven't given myself the chance to really put into words why I feel this way.

It's sort of like..

Kaz gets dismissed a lot. Kaz isn't taken seriously a lot because he lets his emotions get the better of him. (Which is largely his fault, if he could calm down for five seconds and take a breather, he'd be able to put his very honest, very intelligent thoughts into words). But he doesn't give himself that chance. He screams, shouts and acts impulsive instead.

Meaning he gets written off as being 'too hysterical' to take seriously. Which is something we see a lot in female characters. Who often get pushed aside in narratives despite being smart, or having a point, because "She's too hysterical right now don't listen to her."

Kaz is known for being jealous. Manipulative and 100% ruled by emotions and impulses. He makes extreme decisions at the drop of a hat, but places fall apart without him managing the books and the records. He tries to overcompensate, and get taken seriously, but it leaves him getting underestimated and written off. Because for every serious thing he says, for every legitimate point he makes, its either screamed or shouted.

Or, full of biting sarcasm and snide remarks. He's a 'playboy' in Peace Walker. The man with a full hair care routine in a jungle. He's been 'caught' and brought in by a man more powerful and more respected than himself, and while he tries again and again to be on equal footing with him-and fully believes he ought to be, it falls short.

(This isn't excusing Kaz either, his entrance into the MSF is a rabbit hole I've gone down before, because it's very hard to put into black and white territory and victim/abuser territory. It requires deeper thought and more critical thinking).

Anyway.

I think another way to look at it, is that if I imagine Kaz as a woman, his story..really does not change that much to me? It's got all the elements of the supporting/leading lady role. And as a retroactive character (as in, a character that was originally very much a one note they build backwards by making him more meaningful in the prequels) he gained importance in the narrative, but backwards.

(I'm aware this doesn't make much sense, it's so hard for me to articulate this one properly sorry).

To be a tad crueler about it, think of the stereotype 'nagging wife'. Its not hard to imagine Kaz like that. At all. In my head. At the end of the day, it's something I'd probably have to think about more, but it kinda sits in the back of my mind occasionally.

#character posts: kazuhira miller #and hell this might not even have ANY basis in canon I could've just been tripping but its like #i know what i personally am seeing but I don't know fully why that is #this is one of the hardest thoughts ive tried to put into words but i am doing my best #mgs #thoughts posts #nate rambles #kazuhira miller #asks #answered asks

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welcometothejianghu · 3 months

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 天国と地獄 ~サイコな2人～/ Tengoku to Jigoku: Psychona Futari / Heaven and Hell: Soul Exchange.

Heaven and Hell: Soul Exchange is a 2021 Japanese drama about a headstrong cop, the shady CEO she suspects of being a serial killer, and what happens when they magically switch bodies.

With a premise like that, there are basically two tonal choices: You can make it a wacky comedy, or you can get real fucked-up and dark about it. This 10-episode series somehow manages the secret third thing of splitting the difference, so it's got a lot of deliciously fucked-up stuff in the setup, but it never quite has the courage of its convictions to go all the way. What that gets you is the kind of frustrating that you can't stop thinking about afterward, both for what it did and what it didn't have the guts to do.

So! If you're interested in a story that's compelling and occasionally very funny, with just enough unrealized potential that your brain keeps batting it around like a kitten with a squeaky toy at 4AM, I have five reasons that you might want to give this one a shot.

1. Half-Trans: Full Trans Consequences

We're gonna hit this one right off the bat: This is a story where a girl and boy trade bodies, so you know it's got the genders.

Mochizuki Ayako is the only female cop in her department. She's headstrong, kind of obnoxious, a slob, and not particularly feminine -- so of course the dude cops hate her. In the process of investigating a serial murder, she comes across Hidaka Haruto, who's got that kind of smug sinister aura of a smart man who's clearly hiding some shit, though all his underlings love him. When they unexpectedly bodyswap with no idea how to switch back, they're forced to keep one another's lies going so they don't both wind up in jail, except she's still trying to catch him and he's still trying to get away with it.

They work a very good contrast with the difference in their respective attachments to their genders. Despite her hardass demeanor and her lack of super-femme presentation, Mochizuki is without question a woman. She's deeply uncomfortable in a male body, and when someone calls her a man, her instinct is to deny it. Having to deal with a borrowed penis nearly gives her a meltdown.

Hidaka, on the other hand, is a fruity little guy whose first response to finding himself inside a woman's body is to get all girly and take it for a test drive. It's less that he's transfeminine and more that he just really doesn't seem all that attached to any gender. He's got boobs now, and boobs are what he's going to make work for him. Regardless of his sexuality -- and the show does leave that one a big row of question marks -- his gender is gay.

There's also some fairly solid bodyswap acting! ...kinda. Both actors have unfortunately different interpretations of Mochizuki's character. If you're being charitable, it's true she's freaking out and having some kind of gender dysphoria the entire time she's in boy mode, which could explain why she's much softer and girlier when she's being played by the male actor, Takahashi Issei. If you're more inclined to nitpick, well, you're not wrong that the performances don't line up. That said, the actors both do a great job of switching characters, so it's pretty clear when they're being different people (even if it's not necessarily the same different person).

Now, you should by no means assume this show is some conscious exploration of genderqueer existence in contemporary Japan. It is, however, way more thoughtful than I expected it to be. It leaves some very interesting silences, especially around what exactly Hidaka's taste in partners is and why Mochizuki's own body kinda gives her a lesbian awakening when someone else is in there. If you're the type who likes a trans-flavored imagination adventure, this is a spectacular starting point. You're going to have a blast.

2. The Mochizuki Support Squad

Nobody from Hidaka's side realizes what's going on with the swap; sure, the boss is acting weird, but they buy his explanations for it. Mochizuki, however, has exactly two people in the world who care so much about her that they figure out what's happened: her junior cop partner, Yamaki Hideo, and her roommate, Watanabe Riku.

You have to love a character where their closest friends are like, either you've started suddenly acting polite and nice, or you've mystically swapped bodies with another person, and honestly, the bodyswap is the more likely explanation.

This is one of those places where the show takes the goofier and more lighthearted tack. Leaving it so the only people who knew about the swap were Mochizuki and Hidaka themselves would be incredibly isolating and paranoia-inducing, especially for Mochizuki. Giving her (eventually) two buddies who know what's going on both gives her a cushion of support for her ordeal and creates a number of comic moments where these guys are looking at a stranger and seeing their friend -- and vice versa.

They're both kind of daffy sweethearts, too, which adds even more comic relief to the show. Yamaki is an easily flustered, mildly hysterical nerd who just wants his mean bestie back so she can go back to telling him what to do. Riku is a blue-collar himbo who would technically be a hobosexual except for how he both really does pull his weight around the house and (probably) isn't getting laid. They're willing to put themselves on the line and do what they can to make sure their friend is okay, no matter what body she's in.

I actually like how the show has more than couple male-female dynamics where the people involved are just friends -- or, if things change so they're not, it's strongly implied that they could have gone on being just friends and that would have been fine or even better for both parties involved. Romance is not the endgame of every mixed-genital relationship! Sometimes people who love one another dearly are friends without further obligation! You can care for people a lot without wanting to fuck them! And that's great.

Besides, I know it won't shock you to learn that the real horny part of the show plays out as...

3. An interesting game of cat and mouse

Mochizuki's got an interesting problem: She's a cop inside the body of a murderer, and as long as she's stuck here, there's a murderer inside the body of a cop out on the loose. She could, as Hidaka, confess to the murders and in a way that puts him physically in jail, but she doesn't know how to swap their bodies back. She's got to keep Hidaka appeased, or he, in her official capacity, might arrest her and just keep her body forever while she goes down for the crime. She could find a way to take them both down, but that would ruin her life too and is an absolute last resort. She could just let him go and cover up the crimes, but her sense of justice won't allow it.

While Hidaka ... well, Hidaka's got a lot going on. I'm not even going to get into Hidaka's whole deal, because it's related to some late-series spoilers. The simple version is that he's got to be pretending to catch himself while actually trying to destroy evidence about the murders, all while having to dig into gendered expectations to play a version of Mochizuki capable of ingratiating herself with her asshole coworkers instead of alienating them.

And yeah, it's pretty darn horny.

It's one of those delicious enemies-to-allies-to-grudging-friends setups where you've got two people at cross purposes who have to play nice with one another (while still being very mean to one another), and in that process they find things about the other person that are actually worth liking. Because this is a literal life-and-death situation, emotions are running high! Wanting to kill someone and wanting to save them are not mutually exclusive states.

The show makes a great decision not to have Mochizuki and Hidaka hook up, or even to acknowledge that their bond has any erotic component beyond whatever's inherent in borrowing someone else's genitals. This means that their dynamic is very intimate and physical without being textually sexual, which actually winds up making it way more sexual than it would have been otherwise. It's like horror, where what you don't see is almost always scarier than what you do -- with sexual tension, especially across ostensibly heterosexual pairs, subversion and longing are almost always much sexier than having things brought to completion onscreen. I mean, seriously, think of the number of things you've seen where there's pining, and pining, and more pining, and you ship it hard, and then they finally get together and it's a giant disappointment. Better to be left hungry for more of this almost-t4t goodness.

There's also an incredible amount of lapel-grabbing and kabedon-delivering here, so if you're in to that, itadakimasu!

4. A Cop Are Bastard

There are a number of antagonists in this story -- I mean, not shocking, considering both the premise and the way the serial murder case at the heart of the story gets weirdly complicated. The most prominent and persistent of those antagonists, though, is not a serial murderer, but one of the cops.

The character's name is Kawahara Mitsuo, but Mochizuki and Yamaki call him "Seku-Hara," as those are the first two syllables of each word in "sexual harassment." It's fitting. He's sleazy, arrogant, and an entire bag of dicks who talks like a gangster and is willing to do a lot of backhanded dirty-cop shit to get his way.

All this lands him firmly in the Love To Hate category. If you enjoy throwing popcorn at onscreen villains, pop some extra for Kawahara, because that fucker deserves it.

Maybe the most interesting thing about him is how often he's actually right. When he's not being an asshole who's doing bad cop work, he actually does good cop work, and he comes to some pretty astute conclusions about what exactly is going on with the case. Despite Mochizuki and Hidaka's joint interference, he figures out a lot of what's the two of them are up to, even without ever picking up on the bodyswap angle. So he's not just a slimy buffoon -- he's actually a formidable opponent.

Also, did I mention he's hot in a gross way? I dunno, maybe it helps that I've seen Kitamura Kazuki be hot in a not-gross way in other things, like Nekozamurai, where he plays a handsome and noble samurai sworn to protect a very cute kitty. Here, though, he's not noble at all -- he's a thug of a cop with a cocky swagger and a deep voice, and I am not above admitting that I see the appeal.

Like, fuck, I'm not usually into eyebrows, and I'm into his eyebrows. Those are some good eyebrows.

5. argh it's almost so good (but still pretty good!)

I'm about to be slightly spoilery from this point forward, not about specific plot points, but about general narrative moves. If you'd prefer to remain unspoiled for such things, stop reading right now and go to either Viki or Netflix to watch the whole show. You're welcome.

Still here? Great. See, where this show really lacks the courage of its convictions is with Hidaka's character. He starts off the series really evil! He does some very bad things! He's clearly quite sinister. Then about halfway through, the show starts to backpedal real hard and introduces another factor into the murder cases that makes him a much less outright bad guy than he seems at first blush.

...And that sucks! Because as the show first portrays him, he's deliciously kind of a fucker. He's not only confident and threatening, he's happy to take Mochizuki's body and do whatever he wants with it, regardless of her feelings. He reads as a straight-up two-faced psychopath who just wants to keep on ridding the world of bad people by straight-up grotesquely murdering them. But the show doesn't have the guts to either take him down in a blaze of glory or create a redemption arc for a guy who's got a taste for some pretty gnarly body horror, so it's got to find a way to convince you not to believe your lying eyes.

However! I do not consider this a dealbreaker, because I find what the show does wind up doing actually pretty interesting. Just because it's not the ending to the story I, personally, would have told doesn't mean it's not a story worth telling. It's maybe a little artificially convoluted, but you've already suspended your disbelief for the bodyswap thing, right? So just roll with the rest of it.

At the risk of belaboring the duality metaphor, I really do feel like this is a show constantly being pulled in two different directions at once. It seems like half the show loves to roll around in the blood and perversion of vigilante serial murder, while the other half wishes it'd picked a more innocuous crime, like art theft or securities fraud. Half of it wants Hidaka to be a right cold bastard who deals Mochizuki a lot of serious damage, and the other half wants to keep him always on the side of the line where he never does anything unredeemable. Half of it wants this to be a sexy queer exploration of gendered expectations through suddenly different bodies, and the other half wants to play a straight PG-13 bodyswap comedy. Half of it wants to be Hannibal, and the other half wants to be Freaky Friday.

And where it all lands is ... well, in the middle.

Obviously my general disappointment with the show's eventual final form has not left me heartbroken. To the contrary, I've had a lot of fun thinking about it afterward, both pondering what was actually on the screen and having imagination adventures about how I would have done it differently. That, to me, is fun. I enjoy this. Like the Maxx said, the shows in my mind are almost always better.

I might have been a little more put off by the lack of my ideal resolution if the show had required more of a commitment from me, but no, it gets things done in ten one-hour episodes, which makes it a great small-medium bite. You can knock this one out pretty quickly, and then have all the time in the world left for thinking about how things could have been different if the show had not taken the Goldilocks approach to its queer serial murder bodyswap setup. The Hump of Compelling Mediocrity strikes again!

Up for a watch?

As I mentioned earlier, both Viki and Netflix have this one!

No joke, I hope people read this, get enticed by the horny potential of it, watch the show, go a little feral for what fits into those silences I mentioned, and write some dang sexy fanfic for me to enjoy. There's only one piece of anything on AO3 about it! One! One is not a sufficient number of things! Especially not with this promising of a setup. Come on, fellow perverts. We can do better.

Aw, look, they're so cute when they get to be themselves.

#天国と地獄 ~サイコな2人～#Tengoku to Jigoku: Psychona Futari #heaven and hell: soul exchange #heaven and hell #mochizuki ayako #hidaka haruto #i made this #rec post

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lavenderfeminist · 9 months

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Do you ever worry about doing more harm than good? Feminism is one of the most important things for our society. However your viewpoints on feminism are quite different than a lot of people’s, including a handful of your friends. Do you ever feel like you’ll have any chance someday that your thoughts will change and you will be able to at least partially recognize MtF people as women, FtM people as men, etc., especially considering the medical studies on gender dysphoria? I’m curious. I am a non-binary individual (and because I just know there’s going to be assumptions otherwise, I was assigned female at birth), and I can genuinely empathize with the feminist aspects (not the trans exclusionary ones) of the TERF movement: women need more rights and protections, abortion is a human right, men oppress women (and people like me who don’t identify as women but still present fully as such for acceptance reasons) and this needs to change, etc. I just wish people in these circles would focus on that rather than painting trans women as this huge problem. I’ve met a trans woman when she was still identifying as a man, her dysphoria was extremely hard for her. She’s started transitioning now and has always been respectful and supportive of the other women in her life. I guess I’m just ever the optimist, that y’all will realize, yes there are a handful of shitty men out there who want to use the trans identity for something harmful, but there are shitty people from all walks of life, and overall even if our experiences with our birth sex are different, trans women shouldn’t be shunned more than they already are. I can’t believe I wrote this whole thing on a terf blog because ik it won’t change your mind but respond as you wish I guess lol

Yeah, I used to be what some would refer to as a "transmed"/"truscum". In other words, I viewed transgenderism/transexualism as a medical issue resulting from a discrepancy between someone's brain and their outward sex. I have not and will never consider being "nonbinary" a legitimate identity; there is no third sex. And before someone says "what about intersex people!", intersex conditions are sex specific and more accurately called disorders of sexual development (DSDs). Stop using them as pawns in your invalid arguments.

There is no chance of me ever reverting to that set of beliefs again in the case of today's evidence. If presented with evidence that it is physically possible for someone to have a female brain in a male body or vice-versa, and medically possible to verify this in a given individual, my beliefs would change again. But not only is the "brainsex" argument nonsensical when taken to its conclusion (a "female" brain in an otherwise-male body is simply a variation of a male brain...), but modern science very clearly demonstrates that there really are not significant enough biological differences between male and female brains for us to even make a distinction wide enough to sort tran people.

I once passionately believed what you do (to an extent), but I cannot anymore, for these reasons:

The modern trans movement is lying to you. They're telling you that the "transwomen in bathrooms" arguments are a lie, right? That transwomen just want to pee like everyone else? I believed them too, until I was confronted with undeniable evidence that trans women are just as predatory in women's bathrooms as men dressed as women (shocking, because there's no actual distinction being offered to allow the former while barring the latter from women's bathrooms). If anybody who says they're a woman is allowed in women's bathrooms, actual gender feelings are irrelevant, because any man can enter a female space so long as he says the right things.

"Woman" to me holds no more meaning than being a adult human being of the female sex. I have no other associations beyond that. So "trans women are women" is as false to me as "gingerbread women are women". If you say "trans women identify with the gender associated with women", I will agree with you, because femininity, the sex role (gender) assigned to women, is something a man can want to perform. But trans women are not women, because they are not female, and to claim that half of the population calls themself the word for "woman" in their language for any reason other than being female is to assert that half the population identifies with femininity, and that is regressive. I have nothing in common with a trans woman other than us both claiming the word "woman", and that is an absolutely meaningless similarity. I literally have more in common with every trans man on the planet by virtue of inhabiting a female body.

I still believe in sex dysphoria. I still believe that ADULTS with sex dysphoria are entitled to make decisions to modify their bodies, even if they are decisions I find confusing/dangerous/odd, so long as they are adequately informed about the medical risks and consequences of their decisions. I simply do not believe that this necessitates me remaining uncritical of the social and capitalistic factors that may motivate transition for reasons not covered by innate sex dysphoria.

I do not believe in gender identity, and I never will. I do not believe in gendered souls, gendered feelings, etc. I do not believe any sense of gender is innate. A man who feels like a woman is, to me, simply a man making assumptions about the way women feel. A man who wishes he was female is, to me, someone with the rights to make body modifications that mimic a female body, but not someone who will ever be female. I do not believe there is anything inherently different between men and women save for our sexes. Thus, there is no avenue through my worldview in which a transwoman could ever be a woman.

I support your right to believe in gender identity, the same way I support a Christian's right to believe in souls. But I am not obligated to participate in or validate your beliefs, the same way I do not need to participate in or validate a Christian belief in souls. That does not make me transphobic, in the same way that it does not make me Christianphobic. Stop reducing the actual, real hatred that some people have for gender nonconformity to a lack of religious beliefs.

#asks #jan 2024

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evita-shelby · 6 months

Text

They did not know we were seeds

Chapter 1

Cw: mentions of drug abuse, death.

Tagging: @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings

There is something about the girl from Ten that reminds her of Lucy Gray.

Perhaps it was the colors in her blouse’s embroidery that defied the soul crushing weight of the Capitol’s boot on her district’s metaphorical neck, or that defiant smile she wore as they presented her as the chosen tribute.

She did not sing, she did not stuff a snake down a girl’s shirt, but that freckled girl with tan skin and wavy dark hair was Lucy Gray Baird come back to life. Coriolanus and Gaul have seen it too and so it falls on Tigris to protect her from their poison even if she cannot save her from the arena.

“I will style District 10, if you have any complaints about it, you may bring them to President Snow.” Tigris flashed her feline smile at her fellow stylists, already having Eva Smith’s outfits decided.

Eva Smith and her male counterpart, manage to impress the Capitol citizens with their covey-like colors, those who still remember Lucy Gray fondly are the first to sponsor her.

The Tigress knows she will lose her coveted spot, but Cinna and Portia are more than capable of holding their own now. It will be worth it, she reminds herself as she remakes Lucy Gray’s dress from memory.

Coriolanus will know she means to sever the last bond holding them together.

Tribute Eva Smith will be Snow’s greatest nightmare.

Eva doesn’t trust the tiger woman.

Nor her escort, nor her mentor who can’t seem to remember her name and calls her Maria more often than not. It wasn’t their fault, about half the girls in 10 are named Maria or Mary. Her mentor’s own daughter was named Mary, and now thinks all brown haired girls are her.

Eva Smith was just a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday the day she was reaped. All those between the ages of twelve and eighteen had to come from all corners of the district to the Justice Square and awaited their fates in their Sunday’s best.

She wore a blue skirt that reached her shins and a blouse that once belonged to her dead sister, Feli had worn it for her wedding. Spent all her savings for colorful threads from the only haberdasher who had them.

She wears fine cowboy boots even she as an apothecary’s only child can’t afford, brown leather boots with a matching belt and hat band. The rainbow ruffles of her skirt match the feathers on her hat and the embroidery in her partner’s charro outfit.

They are called beautiful by those who send them to their deaths.

At least the tiger woman knew enough to respect their district’s culture, Eva thinks as she sees the district 12 tributes dresses as miners and dusted with soot.

“You remind of someone, a girl from the districts who no one thought she’d win.” The woman smiles as docile as a kitten. But even kittens scratch, and even big cats can feign innocence just like the woman before her.

She must be lying, twelve has never had a female victor. As if sensing her skepticism, Tigris Snow clarifies it was on the early games when no one watched and most Victors too old to be alive.

Eva’s Mentor was from the 17th, she was as old as Mags Flanagan from 4. She barely remembered anything these days because she once took morphine when her only child, Mary Anne, was reaped at the last Quarter Quell and she never recovered.

“How did she win?” Eva asks. Not everyone wins by killing, some hide it out and manage to survive. Twelve’s past victor had already taken to curing his sorrows with a bottle, but he had used the forcefield in the arena to win. Perhaps this victor had a strategy.

“Someone risked everything to take her to victory.” The tiger said with nostalgia, as if that had been a sweet, beautiful thing and not a hellish nightmare. “An alliance so strong he gave up everything for her victory.”

But it was a strange strategy, to rely on an alliance so strong the male tribute chose to die for the girl. Eva knows she is charming and pretty, but she doesn’t know if that will be enough to buy her a truce with the presumed winner of this game: Laurentius Nelson, twin brother of last year’s victor.

And yet when she catches his eye at the mandatory training, Eva considers the strategy. Her mentor’s strategy was just to run and pray they don’t find you.

Who says she cannot try both?

“Call me Laurie.” He is more boy than man, even if he is exactly like his brother. Had the games come five months or so later, Eva would be the same age as them.

Laurie is tall, broad shouldered, handsome even, and his blue eyes don't have brown at their center like his brother. He has freckles and has yet to lose that boyish innocence his brother lacks. Except for that, they are identical.

He doesn’t know hunger, or necessity like even she has and yet his district trains killers. Whether they kill at the games or as peacekeepers makes no difference for them.

“Eva, but you may call me whatever you like.” she gives him her best smile and swallows the guilt she already feels for doing this.

If she lives, she may learn to trust the Tiger Woman and hate her for this.

#eva smith #hunger games au #evacore #they did not know we were seeds fic #jack nelson x eva smith

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mirrorsblogs · 1 year

Text

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? 𝐥. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩!! 𝙮𝙚𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜

“Be nice,” her agent whispered on the elevator ride up. Vera glanced half-heartedly at the woman standing next to her, they both knew she would be anything but. She had a more rigid exterior than most of her female contemporaries who preferred to play into the fantasy of female composers.

She respected their choices to do so as it resulted in their own surmountable success but her path differed, her nature would never allow for a hollow choice. Sure it gained her a reputation for being harsh but all that mattered was creating music that mattered, that could be shared.

The elevator dinged to indicate they reached the top floor of the conservatory, right above the theater where the house orchestra was practicing. They played well enough though not to her standards, those in the third and fourth seats slacked far too much for her liking.

“Ms. Shcherbatskaya, it is lovely to meet you.” Vera looked startled that someone without a present Eastern European accent had been able to pronounce her last name. He had thin-rimmed glasses that most young male composers wore to appeal to the masses, the same could be said of his style. This man though verbally different looked to be another nameless composer destined to be lost to time.

“Likewise, Mr…” She replied. The man smirked at her clear jab to his ego but had no look of annoyance or hurt.

“Ackerman. Levi Ackerman.”

“German?”

“Yes, Berlin specifically.” He paused and inspected her face closely. “Russian?”

“Petersburg,” she muttered, more focused on the mosaic painted on the ceiling. It depicted a scene all too familiar in High-Renaissance pieces, biblical iconography splattered all over. What a sight to behold.

“Your English is amazing,” Ackerman said, interrupting her daydreaming.

“So is yours. Did you learn in school?”

“Yes, along with Russian.”

“How good were your lessons?” She asked in her native tongue, the syllables easily rolling off her tongue as they had done for her forefathers for centuries.

“Good enough.”

She smiled, it had been a long while since she had conversed with someone in her own language. Forever subjected to being held back by speaking a language she was only beginning to learn.

“Could we converse in Russian then?”

“Da.” Levi stood there with his hands in his pockets, he was amused but respectful nonetheless.

“Our agents want us to meet so we can collaborate on a piece.”

“Yes, we should hold on to this because I will be in the countryside to help my Mother for a few weeks.”

“And what shall I do in the meantime? Stay here in this god-awful city waiting for you?”

Vera’s agent placed a warning hand on her shoulder signaling for her to dial back on her tone even though she knew none of their conversation. Levi laughed a little at her antics and walked a little closer to her, he rubbed his hands together before dropping them by his side.

It had felt like years since he was this amused, the days seemed so gray before. He wondered at that moment how he had lived in that muteness for so long now that he was confronted with something starkly different.

“London is not that bad, you’ll be fine.”

“Say that to my lungs! This city will give me cancer I swear!”

Her noticeably dark humor that turned away many potential partners made him laugh even harder. Though she remained noticeably neutral she was shocked internally at someone who had a sense of humor. Her face cracked a smile that Levi took to heart, her reputation had preceded her of course.

The man had expected an old hag rather than a lively young woman, he almost wished it was the former as it would have been easier to leave a hag. Now he was almost considering staying in London for a few weeks and put off visiting his mother. The thought of his mother wondering where he was only to be disappointed once again put him off. He had a duty as a son to care for his mother, a duty he would fulfill.

“I do not want to abandon my mother. You’ll have to wait here. Get to know the orchestra better in the meantime.”

“I could join you?” Both were slightly startled at the impulsivity of the statement but neither expressed rejection over it.

“Forward, are you?”

“No. Dedicated.”

The ride to the Schweinfurt consisted of approximately four train rides with a short walk intermittently after the second. Levi talked little in English and mostly in Russian which greatly comforted Vera. She enjoyed the journey, using it to review some works they could base their piece on and things to do in the area.

“It’s mostly new tech shit there but my mother likes the area.”

“There is a Church to visit.”

“Every town in Germany has a church with a niche significance, it isn’t worthwhile.”

“Then why does this brochure mention it?”

“A tourism scam.”

Vera laughs and closes the brochure, finding more comfort in conversing with Levi than reading. The subject shifted but the attention remained the same as words effortlessly flowed between the two. This is how talking should be, he thought.

The train abruptly stopped near Rottendorf, she gasped at the jolt and lurched forward. He grasped her hand without realizing it and caressed it. The feeling of a calloused thumb over her knuckles felt foreign but nice. She blushed at his gesture and chalked it up to fear.

It took him a few more moments to realize his actions, his hand quickly withdrew.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize when I never raised an issue?”

He opened his mouth a few times to retort but each answer was worse than the last. She grasped his hand again to alleviate her own worries about the train, neither complained. It was only for anxiety, to help her anxiety.

“Apologies, we are experiencing technical issues. At the next station please exit shortly with your items whilst we repair the train.”

He cursed at being so close to his mother but far enough that they could not walk. He glanced down at Vera who took to holding his hand even tighter, she was not faring better than him.

“It won’t be too much for a taxi,” Levi muttered.

“We can split the cost.”

She moved to take some money from her purse only for him to stop her with the hand she caressed.

“What kind of person am I if I let you pay?”

“A cheap one.”

“But not a considerate one.”

“Fine then, be considerate.” Vera waved her hand off in the distance, mocking anger at that moment. He caught on quickly and smirked.

“You are a funny woman, Vera.”

“You would be the first to say that.”

They unloaded their backpacks that held all of their items for the trips and began walking to the area for taxis. Some drivers smoked outside their vehicles and leaned against their cars, a clear sign to avoid them. Vera and Levi settled on a Russian man who sat inside his car patiently reading a Turgenev novel.

“How much to Schweinfurt?” Levi asked the man in Russian.

“I will discount for you, my friend.”

She let Levi handle the haggling for a good fare and hopped into the backseat when they reached a happy mid-point. The driver set aside his novel on the passenger seat and turned the engine on. It was an average day in Germany with fairly normal weather.

“Do you like Turgenev?” Vera asked the driver.

“He is too obscure for my liking but his writing is good.”

“Are you a Tolstoy fan then?”

“Who isn’t?” The driver gestured wildly with one of his hands but kept his eyes on the road. “To be an enthusiast of literature is to be an enthusiast of Tolstoy!”

Levi sat back silently and watched how animatedly Vera talked of Russian authors, almost like she knew them personally. Instead of referring to them as Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, it was Leo and Fyodor. He commented on it as they waited for his mother to answer the door.

“I think of all creative Russians as my brothers and sisters. You don’t do the same with Germans?”

“I’m far too critical to act as though I am on a personal level with them.” Levi knocked once more, checking his watch to see how long they were waiting in the heat. “Besides it would be weird to call Nietzche, Friedrich.”

He blushed in embarrassment as his own native accent slipped out when saying the last part.

“Your accent is cute.”

The door opened with Kutchel standing there, curious as to who the delightful woman her son had brought with him.

“Mother, this is Vera. I told you about her over the phone, remember?”

“You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.” Kutchel took Vera by the arm inside to the dining table where food was already set out. “Are you a composer as well, dear?”

“Yes, I work more in Vienna though.”

“Oh, do tell me about life there.”

“It’s rich with history and the people are good enough…” Vera stumbled over her words slightly when speaking in English, she felt like a five-year-old telling her mother about her school day. “The conservatory is far nicer than any London has.”

“I heard that!” Levi yelled from the kitchen, he came into the room balancing three glasses of water. Vera held herself back from gulping the entire glass and instead sipped politely while Kutchel asked her son a thousand questions on his travels.

“How are your new pieces coming along?” The mother knew well enough of her son’s struggle to compose as of late. His motivation dried up just as he got comfortable in finally living in something other than impoverished.

“That’s what Vera is here for, we are meant to compose together.”

“The room upstairs still has everything where you left it. I’m sure music stores in town should have anything you need too.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Vera thought she might feel like an unwelcome outsider in that moment but it was more akin to the feeling of a silent spectator. Neither shunned nor encouraged to participate, choosing instead to delve into the food in front of her. It was a simple dish of rice and a strange gravy substance but it tasted divine.

“Do you like it?” Kutchel asked when Vera had her mouth full. The girl could only smile until she finally got the food down.

“Yes, it’s fantastic.” Her Russian accent slipped slightly out on the last word.

“Where in Russia are you from?”

“Saint Petersburg.”

“You know Levi’s father, god rest his soul, was from there.”

“Mom-” Kutchel shut him up with a wave of her hand.

“How did he find it?”

“Cold. Said that once he learned of German summers he never wanted to return.”

“Understandable though not forgivable.” They all laughed together, it was clear where Levi got his humor from.

They began the attempt to compose a singular piece the next day, each taking a seat next to one another on the piano bench situated on the far side of the room. The window in front of them shined the sun brightly onto them.

Vera’s pinky hit the ‘b’ key, it felt off to her, not the key itself but its place in this piece. She scratched the blank sheet music which up until this point only held that one note.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, only concert audiences are going to hear.”

“You don’t plan on distributing it?”

“Why would we?”

“Isn’t that what music is for?” Levi stopped his reply when he saw the pure vulnerability in Vera’s eyes, this was not a simple spew from her mouth but from the heart. “People learn how to play, then they improve and make it their own. Keeps it fresh and lively.”

“But it's more intimate when enjoyed by a few. A singular meaning holds far more value than thousands of different ones.”

“Why did you learn how to play music? Why did you learn how to compose?”

He sat there silent for a moment, trying to drudge the earliest memory of him behind the piano.

“I was good at it and it earned my mother enough money to focus on getting an education rather than sticking to life as a sex worker.”

“You did it out of necessity, yes?” The simplification, though accurate, felt ingenuine.

“It was more than that. Playing in front of crowds made me feel as though I was more than just a poor boy from the slums of Berlin. I kept composing for more people to understand the life I lived.”

Vera heard in passing stories of a young German prodigy coming from nowhere and was soon to be heard everywhere. His pieces were an experience, a mutual friend, Hange, shared. He never published his compositions and kept them close, collecting the sheet music from musicians after each performance. Forcing each to sign a non-disclosure agreement to never share his intellectual property.

“I was similar in my reasoning then.” She splayed her fingers on the piano, playing the part to a familiar Spanish allegro. Levi pushed one of her hands aside and began to play the piece alongside her. “The only reason to learn music is…to share it with others.”

She stopped playing abruptly and walked away from the piano to fetch a glass of water. Levi continued where she had left off, the piece flawlessly transitioning into a somber part. Granados had always been a favorite of his, though the feelings of passion Granados tried to convey always fell short of him as a boy. Now, it was different.

His fingers strummed against the keys perfectly at poco andante, the thought of her forced his fingers to play at a faster pace. He moved to play at an allegro pace, the noise from the piano strengthened in volume. The man failed to see Vera leaning against the doorframe, taking big gulps of the water in her hand.

The last note played at fortississimo caused her to jump slightly, Levi panted in exhaustion from rushing the piece. He rested his fingers on the keys but not with enough pressure to push them, energy flowed out from him.

“We should end the piece in a fortississimo,” Vera said, walking up to sketch something in the last line of the sheet.

fff

Levi glanced over her arms, he took the paper from her hands and sketched a couple more notes out for the end. He played it on the piano and she nodded.

“Work our way backwards, then?”

The next few days were spent either in the composing room or the dining table where Kutchel asked them profusely about their progress. She looked to be happier when hearing of their substantial progress in finishing.

“When you do play the piece, could I come to listen?” Kutchel asked. “I know you don’t like to publish your pieces but I want to hear this one.”

“Of course, mom. I’ll save a seat for you in one of the boxes, and invite whoever you want.” Levi ate another piece of his food, Vera was somewhat shocked by how easy he made it all sound. Compared to the conservatories where she worked, trying to get a seat for family members was nearly impossible. Maybe it was different in London.

“It’ll be nice to see you play Vera since I assume Levi will be playing next to you?”

“Yes, I look forward to it.” Her smile was stiff, he noticed the change in her posture as well. Levi asked about it right before she headed into her bedroom.

“You seemed uncomfortable at dinner. Everything alright?”

Vera contemplated for a moment, she jutted her head into her room, and he followed dutifully behind her. It seemed barely lived in despite them being here for more than three weeks. He saw her clothes in some drawers though no toiletries were even unpacked on the vanity or the sink.

“We still haven’t talked about distribution.” She sat on the windowsill, faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

“I prefer to keep it private.”

“Music is meant to be shared. It is meant for children to clamber over and for young adults to froth at. I think we have a masterpiece on our hands. I don't want it to rot somewhere on your shelves.”

“If we keep it private, it’ll be intimate, draw in more crowds.”

“You care too much about the money and not the people.”

“That’s all music has been about for me, appeal to the most and go from there.”

“But what do you want?”

Levi took the seat next to her on the window sill, his hand fell on top of hers. His mind felt clearer than it had in years.

“I want…” Vera perked up at his drawl. “I want to keep it private.”

“I don’t want to fight you right now.”

Her thumb caressed his knuckles in slow circles like it had on the train, it was more intimate now. They were alone, only the moon was a witness to their actions.

“Then we don’t fight.” Levi tilted her chin away from the window and to his eyes, he neared closer to her face. She subconsciously leaned in closer.

“What should we do instead?”

The calloused fingers she had seen so often playing the piano pressed against her hips and effortlessly lifted her figure onto his lap. She let out a small moan when his lips kissed against her jaw and neck, sucking at her pulse point.

“Levi,” she muttered, angling her head down to finally kiss him. It was less consuming than her past lovers and intoxicating if anything. He knew her weak points and exploited them to the full extent, she almost wished he was bad at this. It would be easier to forget him once the night finished but with the way his lips pressed against her sternum, there would be no forgetting.

“You alright, liebling ?” The German accent strengthened the growing feeling between her legs, pelvis rutting against Levi.

“Da.” Forgetting nearly all of her prior knowledge of any other language she could only compute her one objective: Levi. “Take off my shift.”

“No bra?” If his fingers against her hands were enough then his fingers grazing along her bare body was to die for. He pressed kisses along her nude body that men prior had ignored. Sex was average, this was more.

“You complaining?”

Levi shook his head and bit lightly at the skin along her neck, making sure to leave as many marks as possible. She palmed at his shirt, he discarded it on the ground shortly thereafter. Levi brought her in for another kiss, not letting it go this time. The rutting from her hips stalled as his hands gripped her hips, forcing her to stay stationary. She whined against his lips, and he smirked.

“Something wrong?”

“Hurry up and fuck me already.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Vera kissed him again. She took some control, resuming her stimulation against his thigh. Her head fell against his shoulder when he lifted his leg slightly to match the pace of her hips dragging.

“Feels good, liebling? ” he cooed, biting lightly at her earlobe.

“Levi, please,” she rasped.

His hands traveled down to the bottom of her backside, he gripped the skin he could.

“Jump.”

She followed his command, deepening the kiss in the process. He easily supported her weight and laid her across the bed, using the time to admire her and shed the last of his clothing. She was left in her panties which he happily took and threw to the ground.

“Are you good so far?”

“Very good.” Vera let her fingernails graze his shoulders, light scratch marks left behind. He groaned at the intense feeling, hand grasping at her chest. The stimulation between both of them causes them to moan.

Levi moved his hand to her slit, inserting one of his fingers. He was the first composer she had slept with, she supposes that this is the reason his fingers reach places no man ever has. Vera cries out at the feeling.

“You’re so tight,” he grunted, adding one more finger to her slit. He worked his way into her for the next few moments, utterly entranced by the sounds she made. When he curled his fingers she whined, and a feeling in his own body grew.

Caught off guard, he barely noticed Vera nearing the edge and eventually climaxing with a loud moan. He tried to commit all the features of her orgasmic face to his mind, to him it was the best picture in the world. Something only a select few had seen.

“Still good?” He purred.

“Hurry up!” She pleaded, wishing that he finished already and became another regrettable one nightstand. Levi did not do that, he focused on his pleasure just as much as hers. He made sure that she would never forget that night.

“There,” he whispered, in pure bliss. Together they were connected.

He took his time to start a slow and punishing pace which inevitably pissed Vera off more who resorted to begging him.

“Please, please, I need more, give me more!”

He relented as his own human instincts took over. The pace was faster now, he leaned down and began pressing kisses around her breasts. She pressed her nails further into his back and dragged them down, Levi groaned from the mix of pleasure and pain.

“You’ll be the death of me. Won’t you?”

“Yes!” Vera gasped, too lost in the throes of passion. When her second climax arrived it came with a newfound force that she had never experienced, it was addicting.

“Vera, fuck!” He moaned, pushing into her one last time. She moaned at the sensation and met him there. They panted in the afterglow, struggling to find their own breath. Levi collapsed next to her and made his way into the bathroom.

She watched as he wiped down the excess cum working its way down her legs and then himself before discarding the rag in the hamper. He sat back down on the bed, pulling her close.

“Have a thing for cleanliness, do you?”

“It’s healthy to clean.”

She missed the way he stared at her sleeping figure, in love with the sight.

They finished the piece shortly thereafter, choosing to take a unique approach to playing. In the beginning, it was a battle for whose notes would make it through but they each had trust in one another to play. The time is used instead to understand the weaknesses of each player and hide them expertly.

Vera left the next week back to London to prepare the conservatory for their event. Tickets had already sold out so now it was the waiting game. She practiced the piece in the upper room she met Levi in, failing to see Hange walk in.

“How was composing with shortie?”

“He’s easy to work with.”

“First time I’ve ever heard someone say that.”

“You’d be surprised.” She put the cover over the keys and turned around to face Hange. “How’s your mother?”

“Still dead.” A beat. “So good.”

They laughed together, Hange took the seat next to Vera.

“That’s lovely to hear.”

“Can I play it?” They asked, glancing over the sheet music and putting the piano cover-up.

“I don’t see an issue, as long as you don’t share it.”

“You relented then? Let Levi’s secrecy dominate?”

“One day he’ll see my side and then we’ll publish it. For now, we can keep it private.”

“But doesn’t that go against your own teachings?” Hange played the first few notes, already loving the tempo and key. “You always tell people that music is meant for sharing.”

“We are sharing but to a smaller audience.”

“To an elite audience. Vera, you love to play your pieces in the streets so even beggars could hear. What changed?”

To play for the rich and poor was a novel concept. Children from all classes had their pick of contemporary pieces like Mozart but access to modern pieces were limited. Composers guarded their pieces in the confines of overpriced sheet music. Vera differed somewhat, maintaining a moral high ground, by posting her pieces publically. Allowing anybody to find and play it.

“If I publish it, then I betray Levi. I don’t want to do that.”

“But to not betray him compromises your values.”

She was left silent as Hange played what was meant to be a happier part in a different manner, it sounded more depressing if anything. Vera leaned her head against Hange’s shoulder, the wool was soft against her head.

“I love him, Hange.” The piano stopped abruptly. “I don’t want to see him hurt by my actions.”

“Levi’s my friend but he is too stubborn to realize his actions are hurting others,” Hange sighed.

Vera left the conservatory and emailed her agent the music, the publishing date was set the day after opening night.

The crowd gathered at the opening night hailed from across Europe, predominantly Eastern and Central. It was comforting to be among crowds who spoke the same language as her. A hand on her shoulder signaled that it was time to head backstage. She caught sight of Kutchel in the box but was only able to wave before being ushered away.

“You ready?” Levi asked, attempting to tie his bowtie in the mirror.

“Of course.” Vera walked over and began focusing on tying his bowtie for him, failing to see the look of admiration he shot her way. “We go out there and prove you’re not washed up and I’m nice.”

“Who would ever believe that last part?” He joked.

“You have. At least I hope.” Vera finished his bowtie and stepped away, not letting her touch linger for even a second. It would risk it all if she did.

“You’re right and if I can believe it then so can they.”

He grasped her hands, sensing the invisible worry in her system. She was good at hiding her anxieties but not to him, never to him. It was Levi who knew when she was mentally exhausted, who knew when she needed a break, who knew when to simply hold her. He knew it all, it frightened her slightly.

“You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m what you need.”

A stagehand knocked on the door and they both silently followed him to the stage, reveling in the applause from the audience. She heard some hushed whispers but they quieted down when they took their seats at the piano bench.

The piece was simple enough to play with one person but they added so many intricacies when played with two that it required perfect harmony. Complete trust for the other to play their part beautifully, to know when to hit the keys, to know when to reach, and to be patient. You had to truly know the other person to play this.

“Let’s play,” he muttered, starting his hands on the keys.

“Let’s.��

Kutchel had known her son for not much of his adult life, she was a passing face in his grand mission to be the best composer out there. She learned of how he prioritized his own success over others, always focused on his own progress over any other person. She worried for him as any mother would, she worried her son was one of those egotistical musicians they wrote about in the papers.

She was terrified at the possibility of her son being a rich snob.

The man playing on that stage, however, was a different man entirely. She saw even from her seat him waiting patiently for Vera to play at a slower speed while he stormed through his parts. They were opposites but somehow managed to blend. It might have looked chaotic, it was anything but.

Levi did not play like a rich snob, he played like a man in love.

When it ended she anticipated Levi ending on a loud note but his last note was soft, barely audible to those in the higher seats. Vera picked up where he left off and played in the manner Levi had previously, each switching roles effortlessly. She ended harshly, as most loves do.

The crowd roared with applause, it faded into the background. Levi’s hand on the small of her back guided her to the front of the stage. Flowers were thrown, shouts of appreciation. This is what she dreamed of.

Levi bowed first like he had in practice, then she followed. What they had not planned was bowing together which he promptly forced her into. He brought her near after they bowed as most piano partners would.

“I love you.”

Vera recoiled at the suddenness, glancing at the crowd who stared at both of them.

“Not here.”

She left the stage with Levi in tow to the backroom, he pushed the door closed.

“You don’t feel the same?”

“Levi, I do.”

“Then say it.” He took a step closer. “Say it back to me.”

“I-” Vera gulped down a nervous exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Levi, I did something unforgivable.”

“What did you do?” The coldness of his tone sent shivers throughout her body.

“They’re distributing the piece tomorrow across Europe.” Vera took a step back to the door. “We share the profits equally-”

“You think I care about that? You honestly think I care about my side of the profits when you went behind my back and published it?”

“Levi, people deserve to hear this, the music it’s incredible. I don't want it to be only heard in these four walls!”

“And I told you that it was for a reason!”

“A reason that wasn’t good enough!” Levi was shocked at this. “You want it to feel more intimate? What is that? With publishing more kids that grew up like you can experience it. Have you thought about that?”

“Do not bring up my childhood right now when all you are doing is spitting on my legacy!”

“Fine, then I’ll just head back to Vienna. Call me if you want to apologize!”

“What about the rest of the shows?”

“They were doomed anyway. Better no show than a mediocre one.”

She opened the door after already having collected her belongings and rushed out. Some backstage workers tried to stop her for interviews but she turned them away. Her rental car was down the street, she easily made it without looking back.

Vera always failed to see many things about Levi, seeing him rushing out of the conservatory after her would be one of them.

A New Era for Pianist Vera Shcherbatskaya amidst the publishing of her new piece: Friends of Youth

Levi Ackerman publishes his first piece with Vera Shcherbatskaya here’s what we think!

The headlines from small newspaper outlets from across Europe became larger than she anticipated. The two lived in their bubble together when composing and even before but in the aftermath they were exposed to the world.

“The sales on your music books are amazing!” Her agent yelled over the phone. Vera was sweeping her apartment, trying to get rid of the dust that had accumulated in less than a day.

“That’s good. Anything else?” Vera’s voice was as dull as her heart.

“Anything else? Vera, you are the most popular pianist in Europe! This is what we dreamed of!”

“Let me know if Levi or his agent calls.”

She hung up the phone and threw it on the couch. Outside in Vienna was no longer a safe haven as fans swarmed her every move. The only sanctuary was her apartment but even that was a landmine, signs of Levi’s presence were everywhere. The lack of dust in cabinets, organized bookshelves by author's last name, and so much more.

Her next few performances held a significantly darker tone, people theorized it was about a heartbroken lover. Nevertheless, she played with a multitude of partners but each was less satisfying than the last. Nothing matched when they had played in London, critics even noticed.

“You were lovely, Antoine. Just not what I need.” She tried to let the man down gently but he stormed off, writing in the papers that her time with Levi had made her more heartless.

Hange visited when the news started dying down.

“You followed my advice?”

“It was shit advice.”

They shared a bottle of wine while watching old reruns of sitcoms. None of the jokes were remotely funny but it was good background noise.

“You’re still heartbroken that Levi left you.” It was harsh but accurate.

“He hasn’t even tried to call!”

“He talked to me.” Hange chuckled when Vera crawled over to them.

“What did he say?”

“Settle down, I’ll tell you.” They put their glass down and moved closer to the woman. “He said he was sad that he never considered your side but equally mad that you went behind his back.”

“That’s it? I already knew that! Come on, Hange, he had to have told you more!”

“Talk to him to figure it out!”

She did not in fact talk to Levi and instead chose to continue playing their shared music across Europe. His parts were stark silence, leaving it incomplete.

Concert Pianist Vera Shcherbatskaya entering a mournful period

That was spot on. Crowds across the continent noted the far-off look in her eyes in those loud moments of silence. When the last note was played they all clapped the same as that night but with more reproach.

“Ms. Vera!” She turned and found a little girl waving with a marker and paper. “Could you sign this?”

The woman obliged, kneeling to the girl’s level.

“What’s your name?”

“Vera! Like yours!”

“Then you’ll grow up to be a fine piano player, yes?”

“I want to play violin!”

“Then we’ll have to play together one time.”

She finished the message on the sheet and handed it back to the girl, her mother had a tired smile on her face.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered. “I saved up to take her to this concert, thank you for making it special!”

“If you want her career to grow, take her to a conservatory in Budapest. Tell them I sent you and they will give you room and board for free if you work there.” Vera pressed a warm hand into the mother’s shoulders.

“I can’t thank you enough!”

“Thank me when she gets to play on the big stage.”

Playing to massive audiences grew meaningless after a while, people blended together. None resembling who she actually wanted to see in a crowd. Vera left her concert after playing one night in Vienna, choosing to head to a local dive bar. It was packed to the brim for the open-mic night.

They had a piano, it looked out of tune and needed some work but it would do.

“Can I play?”

“You go on in five minutes.”

She stretched her hands out and followed a drunk man who sang a Mariah Carey song, he hit the high notes which surprised the crowd. Performers were meant to introduce themselves but she chose instead to test the keys out.

Most were fine, just the higher ones were a tinge too headache-inducing.

The first part was Levi’s, she never knew how to play it even if she tried. Vera strummed her own slow part in the quiet bar, not nearly drunk enough to not feel the nerves from playing in front of such a judgemental crowd. She paused again.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Keep playing!”

The shouts hurt her slightly but she continued through to the middle, tears fell down her face as feelings of heartbreak came rushing back. A hush fell over the crowd when someone from the audience made their way to the stage. He took the seat next to her, stretching his hands out.

“Let’s start over.” Levi’s familiar voice hummed. She smiled through her tears and leaned closer.

“Let's.”

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